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9 


Mysteries of the People 

- X, — 

OA, THE 

* 

STORY OF A PLEBEIAN FAMILY 

FOR 2,000 YEARS. 


BY EUGBISrE SUE, 

1/ 

Author of the "Wandering Jew,” &.C., &c., &.c 



TBANSL&TED BT 

IL. BOOTH, 

• ) 

Translator of Martin’s '^History of France,” ifC,, SfC. 


NEW YORK: 

Cl. ARK, PUBLISHER, 

443 BROOME STREET. 


> 


u 


HT • 



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1867 , 


/< 

. 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 186G, by 

C. M. OLAllK, 

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of 

New York. 


BBADSTREET PRESS. 


PUBLISHER’S NOTE. 




"THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE ; on, The Story of a Pledeian 
FImily for Two Thousand Years,” is universally acknowledged to bo the 
greatest work of Eugene Sue, the first novelist of Fraucc. This thrilling 
romance is the history of the French people through ages of slavery, serfdom, 
feudal oppression and monarchical despotism, till the time when they became 
strong enough to throw off the yoke and regain their sovereignty. This is a 
phase of history heretofore unwritten. Hitherto, as the author says in his preface, 
the history of the kings, their courts, their intrigues, aud their battles has been 
told again and again, but never that of their millions of subjects, which, on tho 
contrary, has been carefully vailed. This book strips tho illusion from tho past, 
and reveals it in its truth, often harrowing and startling, but never overdrawn, as 
the abundant historical authorities prove. It is tho complete romantic history of 
Franco from tho days of Brennus, tho Gaul, who subjected Romo to ransom, to 
the- reign of Napoleon III., told in a series of tales of breathless interest and 
wonderful accuracy. 

This great work, however, with tho exception of a small fragment, has hitherto 
'remained unknown. This fragment, comprising about one-sixth of the work, was 
first published under tho Republic of 1848. It was received with the greatest 
enthusiasm, and congratulatory letters poured in on tho author from all parts of 
France. A scat falling vacant at that moment in the Legislative Assembly, for 
the city of Paris, deputations from all tho trades corporations went to Hordes, 
to tender him the nomination, and ho was elected the representative of the people 
April 11th, 1850, by tho unprecedented number of one hundred and seventeen 
thousand votes. The coup eV'etat of 1851 soon followed, and Eugene Sue was 
first imprisoned with his colleagues in Mont St. Michel by Louis Napoleon, and 
afterward went into voluntary exile at Savoy. During his exile, he completed 
“ The Mysteries of the People,” but no sooner did it appear in Fi*anco than it 
was seized and suppressed by tho government, to which tlio sad story of tho suf- 
ferings of tho people, as well as the strictures on the Bonapartes, seemed too 
dangerous to be allowed circulation among the masses. To this day tho book re- 
mains interdicted in France. The author died a few weeks after from grief at 
tho suppression of what ho regarded as his gi’eatest work ; and the book has re- 
mained unknown until recently, when a costly and elegant edition has been issued 
at Brussels, by Victor Hugo’s enterprising publishers, Lacroix, Vcrboeckhovcn 
& Co. From this edition the translation has been made by Miss Mary L. Booth, 
the translator of Martin’s “History of France,” etc. 

.^These tales, each one of which is complete in itself, form a complete and 
reliable history of the origin, religion, manners, customs, language, costume, 
habitations, professions, arts, manufactures and trades, as well as of the wretch- 
edness, sufferings, struggles and triumphs of the French people — that is to say, 
the masses — from the remotest ages to the present time. Strange and terrible 
as many of them seem, especially those onhe Middle Ages, they still fall short of 


PUBLISHER’S NOTE. 


the fearful epochs which they depict ^ It would be difficult to conceive of greater 
power and vividness of description, united to such strict adherence to truth. He 
who wishes for a thrilling novel can find none more intensely interesting than 
these exciting tales, while he who wishes to study the history of France in all 
its details, will find them a faithful picture of facts outside of the province of the 
historian proper, yet essential to a full knowledge of the history of the times. 
Wo venture to say that this work, from its careful study of manners and customs, 
will henceforth bo regarded as indispensable to the study of French history, upon 
v-hich it throws a new and often startling light. ^ — 

The lesson which Sue has sought above all to inculcate is that of Democracy. 
In this story of the working-classes, ho has wished to show, by historic example, 
the abuses and dangers which grow out of inequality and privilege — the presence 
of a titled caste and a state religion. This dangerous doctrine procured the 
suppression of the book in imperial France ; it should be an additional reason 
for its widespread circulation in democratic America. , 

Among tho historical episodes illustrated by these tales, we will cite : The 
Days of the Deuids, their Manners and Customs and Religion : The Last 
Effort of Vercingetorix to Save Gaul ; Cassar’s Conquest of Gaul ; Slavery 
Under the Romans ; The Gladiatorial Combats and Games of the Circus ; 
The Invasion of the Franks; The Rule of Victoria the Good, Surnamed 
THE Emperor ; The Coming of Christ, his Crucifixion, and the Establish- 
ment OF Christianity in France; The Bagaudie and the Vagrerie, those 
Great Uprisings of the Peasants ; Clovis And the Merovingian Kings ; The 
Terrible Duel of Half a Century’s Duration between the Celebrated Queens 
Fredegonda and Brunehilda; The Wars of Charles Martel; The Reign 
OF Charlemagne ; The Invasion of the Northmen and their Settlement in 
Normandy; The Tragic End of the Carolingian Kings, and the Establish- 
ment OF THE Capetian Dynasty ; The Year 1,000, the Predicted End ofTue 
World, with its Incidents of Unearthly Interest; Feudalism and Serf- 
dom; The Institution of Chivalry; The Cp-usades; The Establishment of 
THE Communes; The Troubadours; The Persecution of the Albigenses ; 
The Jacquerie; The Knights Templars ; The English Wars ; The Mourn- 
ful Story of the Maid of Orleans; The Reformation; Catherine^de 
Medicis and her Sons; St. Bartholomew’s Day; The Assassination of 
Henri IV.; The Days of Richelieu and Mazarin ; The Iron Mask; Louis 
XIV. AND Ills Coupwt; The Regency; Louis XV. and his Times ; The Last of 
THE Capets; The Formation of the French Republic; The Execution of 
Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette; The Reign of Terror ; .The First Napo- 
leon; Louis XVIII., Charles X. and Louis Philippe; The French Republic 
OF 1848 ; The Coup d'etat of 1851, and the Inauguration of Napoleon HI. 
AIL of these episodes, and many besides, are interwoven into the plot of these 
tales with a power that holds tho reader chained breathless from the first page to 
the last, and makes him exclaim, “Truth is stranger than fiction.” 

The first series of tales which wo offer our readers comprises, besides tho 
Introduction, a talc of tho Revolution of 1848, which is designed chiefly as a 
preface to the work, the Golden Sickle; or, the Virgin of the Isle of Sena, a 
touching story of the Druidical ages, of which so little is known : the Brass Bell ; 
or, the Chariot of Death, tho last effort of Vercingetorix, the great Chief of tho 
Hundred Valleys, to save his country; the bSttle of Vannes and tho final subju- 
gation of Gaul by Caesar : and tho Iron Collar ; or, Faustina and Siomara, 
the most powerful and vivid picture ever drawn of Roman slavery, with its 
gladiatorial combats and circus games. This will be followed by seven other 
series, each complete in itself, and forming together a collection of historical 
romances, unique in design and unparalleled in interest, variety and accuracy. 
These book^ will be known as The Mysteries of the People, 1st series, ild 
series, etc. Price, One Dollar each, being one-fourth the cost of tho original, -:r 


AUTHOR’S PREFACE.* 


Dear Readers ; 

Permit me first to thank you for the kindly welcome accorded by you to the 
“ Mysteries of the People,” the success of which to-day exceeds my wildest 
hopes. I have received precious encouragement and proofs of lively sympathy. 
After responding thereto privately, I am proud and happy publicly to express 
my gratitude ; this cordial support redoubles my strength. I have spoken of the 
praises which my work has received ; I will speak with equal sincerity of a criti- 
cism which has been addressed to me, in the most kindly manner, moreover, and 
which appears to me of sufficient importance to call for the following explanation : 

I have been rebuked for the great number of notes that accompany several 
numbers of this work. I had anticipated this objection myself almost from the 
beginning, by entreating you to read these notes attentively, and hoping to make 
their great importance understood. I will be more explicit: 

Whatever confidence you may deign to have in my word, you will find in the 
following tales facts so strange, so extraordinary, and often even so monstrous, I 
might almost say so incredible, that, without the irrefutable historical authorities 
with which I accompany them, the most indulgent reader might believe, not, 
doubtless, that I wished to deceive, but that, led away by the imagination of a 
novelist, I had exaggerated facts bqyond their farthest possible limits in order to 
render them more striking. There will be no danger of this if literal, irrefraga- 
ble historical quotations servp, so to speak, to clench my assertions, and prove 
that, whatever may be the merit of my stories, they are truthful and reliable. 

Then, the work once finished, these notes, which accompany it from the 
beginning, and which I assure my readers that I have chosen with the most 
scrupulous care from among innumerable documents, will form, by the side of the 
tales, which I have striven to render amusing and varied, notonly an authentic his- 
tory of the wretchedness, sufferings, struggles, and often, thank God ! triumphs of 
the fathers of us of the working-classes, but also of their origin, religion, man- 
ners and customs, language, costume, habitations, vocations, arts, ma,nufactures, 
trades, etc. 

A word on this subject, dear readers. Hitherto (save a few eminent modern 
historians quoted in our notes) men have always written the history of our kings, 
their courts, their intrigues and their battles, but never that of us of the working- 
classes ; on the contrary, this has been vailed from us, in order that we might 
draw neither virile teachings nor ardent faith and hope in a better future, fi’om 
the knowledge and consciousness of the past. This has been a great misfortune, 
for the better we know and feel what our fathers and mothers suffered in order 
to conquer for us, through the ages,, step by step, and century by century, at the 
price of their tears, martyrdom and blood, the sacred rights and liberties 
summed up to-day by the sovereignty of the people inscribed in our constitution, 
the dearer and more holy are these rights and liberties to us, and tho more 
resolved we are to defend them. 

The better we know and feel the frightful moral and physical slavery in which 
our ancestors of the conquered Gallic race were made to groan by our enemies in 

^ * This preface was written by the author shortly after the appearance of the first few numbers of the work, 
In answer to the congratulatory ietters which poured in on him from ail parts of France. When one-aixth of 
the work bad thus apneared, the publication was suppressed, not to be resumed till the present time. 


AUTHOR’S PREFACE. 


all ages — the kings and nobles, sprung from the Frankish conquest, as well as the 
Ultramontanes, their worthy allies, Jesuits, inquisitors, etc. — the more resolved 
we shall be to break the 'bloody and abhorred yoke if the attempt is made to 
impose it on us anew. 

Lastly, dear readers, the better we know and feel the unceasing progress 
of humanity, which, as is proved by history, has never taken a backward step, 
the firmer will be our faith in a constantly progressive future, and the more tri- 
umphantly shall we overcome that fatal discouragement by which the strongest 
suffer themselves to be bowed down in days of harsh trials — a fatal discourage- 
ment ; for our enemies, continually on the alert, will avail themselves of it, with 
infernal art, temporarily to arrest our journey toward the promised land. 

Finally, and above all, the better we know and feel the barbarites, usurpa. 
tions, robberies, disasters, civil, social and religious wars, convulsions and revo- 
lutions without number, springing up anew, so to speak, in every century of our 
history, from the time of that crowned bandit, Clovis, to 1848, the more we shall 
laugh at the braggarts who have the deplorable audacity to present to us a mo- 
narchical government by divine or any other right, as a guarantee of order, peace, 
happiness and stability, and the more we shall be convinced that henceforth there 
is no safety or repose for France except in a republic. 

It is my aim, therefore, according to the feeble measure of my strength, to 
inspire you by means of these tales with this knowledge and feeling of the past, 
which alone can give confidence in the future and insure its happiness ; and, 
whatever may be the kindly sympathy with which you honor me, I regard it as a 
duty to you to join proofs to facts, and historic authority to the scenes which I 
place before your eyes. It also seems to me that your conviction will be stronger 
and more fruitful if you can say, “This conviction springs from the profoundest 
and most reliable historical sources.”. 

And for this reason, dear readers, I again entreat you to read with attention 
the notes, of which I shall be as sparing as possible, but which, in my opinion — 
and I hope that you will share it — are the indispensable complement of the work 
so cordially welcomed by you from its beginning. 

Permit mo to hope that you will continud this inestimable kindness, and be- 
lieve in my efibrts to render myself more and more worthy thereof. 

Eugene Sue. 


TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE. 

\ 


1 HAVE been induced to undertake the translation of the following work chiefly 
through my interest in the history of*France, and my desire to aid in popu- 
larizing the knowledge of this country and its eventful past, hitherto so imper- 
fectly understood and appreciated by the masses, through the great lack that has 
existed of standard French histories in the English language. 

There is one phase of the history of a nation that is best studied in novels ; its ' 
domestic life — its manners and customs. The historian cannot pause to dwell on 
these details ; he only gives the outlines, which the conscientious novelist fills up 
and personifies so as to make them living realities. It is well, therefore, in 
reading a standard history, to read a good historical novel of the epoch at the 
same time, that the novel may depict the daily life of the people more closely than 
it is the province of the history to do, while the history serves as a test of the 
truthfulness of the novel, and corrects any misstatement or erroneous coloring of 
facts into which the novelist may have been lad by his imagination or personal bias. 

The Mysteries of the People, which may be regarded as the most brilliant 
and powerful work of that graphic writer, Eugene Sue, is a marvelous study of 
the inner life of the French people, from the remotest ages, which it depicts with 
Pre-Rap haelitish fidelity. Those who dissent most from the author’s opinions can- 
not but be interested in the remarkable accuracy of this interior painting, in which 
the language, manners and customs, dress, mode of life, and avocations of a people 
for two thousand years are drawn with the minuteness of the most carefully 
wrought and highly finished Flemish picture ; while the facts, opinions, legends and 
traditions of the past which are interwoven into the plot will commend themselves 
to all lovers of French history. Above all, it sums up and vi^-idly portrays the 
true character of Druidism, that cradle of the Gauls, so much misunderstood till 
interpreted by Henri Martin, Jean Reynaud, La Tour d’Auvergne, and other 
modern writer.s. The concluding portion of the work places the history of the 
French Revolution, so much quoted and so imperfectly known by many among 
us, in a novel and striking H.^ht which cannot fail to excite curiosity and atten- 
tion. 

Moreover, the book is of especial value to a republican nation, inasmuch as it 
furnishes fresh proofs that the only safety for the people is in a republic. The 
few can only be exalted at the expense of the many ; an aristocracy can only 
exist at the expense of the democracy. Nature alone can lawfully create inequality, 
and this inequality is born and ends with the man. 

No words are needed with respect to the thrilling interest of the tales ; they are 
their own best comment. I offer them to the American public with the hope 
that they may induce a more earnest and careful study of the history and genius 
of that French nation to which we Americans arc chiefly indebted for our national 
independence, but which we have been too much in the habit of regarding through 
the spectacles of the English, the rivals and sworn foes of France. 


Mary L. Booth. 


EACH SERIES COMPLETE IN ITSELF, 


CONTENTS OF THE FIRST SERIES. 

THE DRAGOON’S HELMET AND THE CONVICT’S CHAIN, OR THE LEBRENN 
FAMILY. A.D. 1848-1849. INTRODUCTION 

THE GOLDEN SICKLE, OR THE VIRGIN OF THE ISLE OF SENA. B.C. 67. 

THE BRASS BELL, OR THE CHARIOT OF DEATH. B.C. 66-40. 

THE IRON COLLAR, OR FAUSTINA AND SIOMARA. B.C. 40. A.D. 10. 


• « s 4 3 

BHfi* . 


•q' 


THE 


' MYSTEKIES OF THE PEOPLE 


Slorji of a l^kkiaa J^amilg for iiCtDo ®^ousanb ^rars. 


INTRODUCTION. 


The Dragoon’s Helmet — The Convict's 

Chain, or the Lebrenn Family — 
1848, 1849. 

CHAPTER I. 

On the 23d of February, 1848, an epoch 
vrhen France for several days, and Paris for 
twelve hours, had been in a state of great 
excitement on account of the Reform ban- 
quets, there might have been seen in the 
Rue St. Denis, not far from the Boulevard, 
a good-sized shop, with the sign, “ Marik 
Lebrenn, Linen Draper. The Sword of 
BrennmP A decently painted sijrn-board 
represented the anecdote so well known in 
history : the chief of the Gallic army,Bren- 
nus, throwing his sword, with a haughty, 
ferocious air, into one of the scales holding 
the ransom paid by the Romans to their con- 
querors, our fathers, the Gauls, more than 
two thousand years ago. 

The warlike sign of the linen-draper had 
at first excited much merriment among his 
neighbors, who soon forgot it, however, 
when they discovered that Marik Lebrenn 
was one of the best men in the world, a good 
husband and kind father, who sold capital 
articles, among others, superb Brittany 
linen from his native province, at reason- 
able prices. WThiat more was needed i The 
worthy tradesman met his notes promptly, 
was polite and obliging to every one, and 
performed the functions of senior captain 
of the grenadier company of his battalion 
to the entire satisfaction of his beloved 
comrades ; in short, he was a general favor- 
ite in his neighborhood, where ho might be 
styled, in truth, one of the leading men. 

On the 23d of February in question, a 
cold morning, the ghutters were, as usual, 
taken down by the shop-boy, aided by the 
house-maid, both Bretons like their master, 
who always chose his servants from his 
native province. The house-maid, a hand- 
some girl of twenty, was named Jeanike. 
The shop-boy, Gildas Pakou, a stalwart 
young lad from the Vannes country, had a 
frank countenance, which just now wore an 
air of astonishment at everything, for ho 
had arrived in Paris hut two days before. 

1 


He spoke French tolerfibly well, but when 
in company with his country-woman, Jean- 
ike, he preferred Low Breton, the ancient 
Gallic tongue, or vei’y nearly resembling 
it; for which reason we shall translate the 
conversation between them. 

Gildas Pakou seemed pensive as he 
busied himself with carrying the shutters 
inside ; sometimes ho even stopped short in 
the middle of tho shop, resting his elbows 
and chin on the top of the shutter, as if 
buried in thought. 

“What are you thinking of, Gildas?” 
said Jeanike. 

“ My dear,” he answered, in a half-medi- 
tative, half-jesting tone, “do you remember 
our country ballad, Genevieve of Rustifan?” 

“ Of course ; I have heard it from my 
cradle; it begins, 

*• ‘ Whe \ .Johnny w.atche t bis sheep and lambs, 
lie little 1 bought a priest to be.’ ” * 

“Well, Jeanike, I am like Johnny. 
When I was at Vannes, I little thought 
what I should see in Paris.” 

“ And what do you see here that is so won- 
derful, Gildas?” 

“ Everything, Jeanike.” 

“ Indeed ! ” 

“ And many other things beside.” 

“That is seeing a great deal.” 

“ But listen; my mother said to me, ‘Gil- 
das, M. Lebrenn, our fellow-countryman, 
who buys tho linen that wo weave in tho 
long winter evenings, has engaged you as 
his shop-boy. It is a God-fearing house, 
and you, who are a good, steady lad, will 
be as quiet there as here in our little town, 
for tho Rue St. Denis, where your master 
lives, is inhabited only by respectable and 
peaceable tradesmen.’ Well, Jeanike, no 
longer ago than last e\j|fcniug, only two 
days after my arrival, didn’t we botli hear 
the cry, ‘ Close the shops ! close tho shops !’ 
the drums beating, tho patrols marching, 
and crowds of men running noisily to and 
fro, some of them with great beards and 


* In Brittany, which preserved its iadepemleccu fj- 
several centuries after the Frankish conquest, aud whieli 
1 1 this day preserves the Gallic phyaiognouiy, cosiumo 
and language, the Bruldical tiMditiuus aud ballaiis are 
still in vogue among the common people. The ballad 
here referred to, which was sung by the wandering min- 
strels or bards it’ the fourteenth or fifteenth century, is 
sung in our limes in Brittany. 


2 


Tllli MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


frightful foces ? I dreamed of them, Jean- 
ike, I dreamed of them.’’ 

“ Poor Gildas !” 

“ But if that were all !” 

“ What ! is there anything more ? Have 
you any fault to find with master ?” 

“With master! he is the best man in 
the world, I am sure of it; mother said 
so.” 

“ Or Madame Lehrenn ?” 

“ The dear, good woman ! her gentleness 
reminds me of mother.” 

“ Or the young lady ?” 

“Oh I as to her, Jeanike, we can say of 
her, as in the ‘ Song of the Poor,’ 

“ ‘ Your mistress is so good and fair, 

That ’tis the poor man’s daily prayer 
That Heaven’s best gifts may be her share.’ ” 

“ Ah ! Gildas, how I love to listen to 
these songs of our country 1 That one 
seems made expressly for Miss Velleda, 
and I — ” 

“Stop, Jeanike,” feaid the shop-boy, in- 
terrupting his companion, “you ask what 
surprises me ; now, tell me, is that a name 
for a Christian ? Velleda! What does it 
mean ?” 

“ What have you to say against it ? It is 
a fancy of master and mistress.” 

“ And their son, who went back to school 
yesterday — what on earth is his name ? It 
always seems like swearing when you 
speak it. Just say his name, Jeanike ; come, 
say it.” 

“ It is easy enough ; his name is Sacro- 
vir.” 

“There! I was sure of it; you spoke 
just as if you were swearing — ^you said 
sacrrrrovirP 

“ No, indeed, I didn’t roll the r’s as you 
do.” 

“They roll enough of themselves. But 
what a name !” 

“ It is another fancy of master and mis- 
tress.” 

“ Well, and the green door?” 

“ The green door ?” 

“Yes, at the end of the hall; I saw mas- 
ter go in there yesterday, at noon, with a 
light.” 

“That’s natural enough, since the shut- 
ters are always kept closed.” 

“And that ycm think is natural enough. 
Why are the sliAtters always kept closed ?” 

“ 1 don’t know! ind^ ; I suppose it’s — ” 

“ Another iaa^ of^aster and mistress, 
you were going lo say, Jeanike.” 

“ Of oourso.” / 

“ AncLwl^at its there in this room which 
is dark at ttitd-day ?” 

“ I don’t know, Gildas. Nobody but mas- 
ter and mistress ever goes in there; not 
even their children.” 

“ And does not all this seem very surpris- 
ing to you, Jeanike ?” 

“ Not at all, because I am used to it, as 


you will soon be, too.” The young girl 
looked in the street, stopped short for a 
moment, then called to her companion, 
“ Did you see him ?” 

“ Whom ?” 

“ That dragoon.” 

“ A dragoon, Jeanike ?” 

“ Yes ; run, I beg you, and see whether he 
turns back toward the shop ; I will tell you 
all about it by and by. Run, quick ! 
quick !” 

Gildas soon returned. “The dragoon did 
not turn back,” said he. “ But what have 
you to do with dragoons, Jeanike ?” 

“ Nothing, thank God; but the barracks 
are close by.” 

“A bad neighborhood for young girls, 
close by these armed men,” said Gildas, in 
a sententious tone ; “ a bad neighborhood ; 
it reminds me of the ballad of the Demand, 

*• ‘ I had in my dove.cote a sweet little dove ; 

The hawk, the destroyer, pounced dotvn from above, 

And, stricken with terror, away flew my love.* 

“ Do you understand, Jeanike ? The doves 
are the young girls, and the hawk — ” 

“ Is the dragoon. You did not know how 
nearly you Jiad hit the mark.” 

“What, Jeanike, have you found the 
neighborhood of the hawks — that is, of the 
dragoons — so dangerous ?” 

“ I was not thinking of myself.” 

“ Of whom then ?” 

“ Listen, Gildas ; you are an honest fellow, 
and I am going to ask your advice. I’ll 
tell you what has happened. Four days ago. 
Miss Velleda, who usually stays in the 
back shop, was waiting at the counter 
while master and mistress were out, with 
me by her side. I looked in the street, when 
I saw a soldier stop before the window.” 

“ A dragoon, a hawk of a dragoon ; eh ! 
Jeanike?” 

“ Yes, but he was not a private soldier ; 
ho wore large gold epaulettes and a plume 
in his helmet. He must have been a colonel, 
at least. He stopped and looked into the 
shop.” 

The conversation was here interrupted 
by the sudden entrance of a man of about 
forty years of age, dressed in a black vel- 
veteen jacket and trowsers, like a railroad 
engineer. His strongly marked features 
were half hidden by a thick, brown beard. 
Ho rushed into the shop, and said to Jean- 
ike in an anxious manner, “ My goo<i 
girl, where is your ipaster? I must speak 
with him instantly. Iftun and tell him that 
Dupont wishes to see him. Don’t forget my 
name — Dupont.” 

“M. Lehrenn went out very early this 
morning, and has not yet returned,” said 
Jeani ke. 

“Ten thousand devils! He must have 


* The Demand ; a popular ballad of Brittany, quoted 
by Villemerqu6. 


THE DRAGOON’S HELMET, &c. 


3 


gone there,” said the stranger to himself, 
lie was about to quit the sliop as hastily 
as he had entered, when, recollecting him- 
self, « My good girl,” said ho to Jeaniko, 
“ as soon as M. Lebrenn returns, tell him 
that Dupont has been here.” 

“Very well, sir.^^ 

“ And that if he — M. Lebrenn,” added 
Dupont, hesitating as if in search of an 
idea, then, doubtless having found it, he 
added, hastily, “ Tell your master, in short, 
that if he has not been to his pepper stores 
this morning — mind, his stores — not 

to go there before seeing Dupont. You will 
remember this ?” 

“ Yes, sir ; but had you not better write 
to M. Lebrenn ?” 

“ Oh ! no,” said Dupont, quickly, “ it would 
be useless, merely tell him — 

“ Not to go to his pepper stores before 
having seen Dupont,” returned Jeanike. 
“ Is that right, sir ?” 

“ Precisely. Good day,” and he instantly 
vanished. 

“ So, M. Lebrenn is also a grocer, since 
he has pepoer stores,” said Gildas, with a 
bewilderea air. 

“ This is the first that I have heard of 
it.” 

“ And how confused that man seemed — 
did you notice it, Jeanike? Ah! this is 
indeed a wonderful house !” 

“ You are fresh from the country, and 
astonished at everything. But let me fin- 
ish my story of the dragoon.” 

“ The story of the dragoon with gold 
epaulettes and a plume in his helmet, who 
stopped to look at you through the window, 
Jeanike ?” 

“ It was not I that he was looking at.” 

“ Who was it then ?” 

“ Miss Velleda.” 

“ Really !” 

“Miss V'^elleda was busy with her em- 
broidery, and did not see that the dragoon 
was gazing at her with all his eyes. For my 
part, I was so dumfoundered that I dared 
not tell her that he was looking at her.” 

“ Ah ! Jeanike, this reminds me of a bal- 
lad that — ” 

“ Let m'' finish, Gildas, and then you 
can tell me your ballad if you like. This 
dragoon — ” 

“ This hawk — ” 

“Well, ho was there, staring at Miss 
Velleda with-all his eyes.” 

“ With all his hawk^s eyes, Jeanike ?” 

“ Do let me finish. Presently Miss Vel- 
leda noticed the attention of which she was 
the object, upon which she turned as red as 
a cherry, and telling me to mind the shop, 
retreated to the back room. That was not 
all; the next day the. Colonel returned, 
this time in citizen’s dress, and looked in 
again at tho window. But madamo was at 
the counter, and he did not stand long on 


guard. The day before yesterday, back he 
came, but ho did not see Miss Velleda. At 
last, yesterday, while IMadamo Lebrenn was 
in tho shop, ho entered and asked her very 
politely whether she could furnish him a 
large supply of road^-mado linen. Madame 
answered yes, and it was agreed that the 
Colonel should return to day to settle with 
M. Lebrenn about tho order.” 

“ And do you think, Jeanike, that 
Madame had noticed this oflicer looking 
in at tho window ?” 

“ I don’t know, Gildas, nor do I know 
whether I ought to tell her. Just now I 
asked you to go and see whether tho dra- 
goon turned back, because I thought he 
might bo watching us; but, happily, it is 
not 80. Now, do you advise mo to tell mis- 
tress or not ? If I do, it may make her un- 
easy ; if I do not, it may be wrong. What do 
you think ?” 

“ I think that you ought to tell Madame, 
for she may suspect something from this 
largo order for linen. Hern ! hem !” 

“ I will follow your advice.” 

“ And you will do well. Oh ! my dear 
girl, these armed men — ’’ 

“ Oh I oh ! you are thinking of your bal- 
lad, are you not ?” 

“It is a terrible ballad, Jeaniko; my 
mother has sung it to mo a hundred times 
of an evening, as my grandmother had to 
her, and as my grandmother’s graridinother 
had — ” 

“ Come, Gildas,” said Jeanike, laughingly 
interrupting her companion, “from one 
grandmother to another, you will go back 
to mother Eve — 

“ Of course, are there not tales in the 
country which date back — 

“ A thousand or fifteen hundred years, or 
more, like the ballads of Myrdin and 
those of tho Baron de Jauioz, which I 
have heard from my cradle. I know that, 
Gildas.” 

“ Well, Jeanike, the ballad of which I 
spoke in connection with these men that 
wear helmets and prowl about young girls 
is a frightful one; it is called the ‘ Three 
Red Cross Knights, or the Sieur de Plouer- 
nel.’ ” 

“ What do you say,” cried Jeanike, struck 
with the name, “ the Sieur what ?” 

“ The Sieur do Plouernel.” 

“ That is singular.” 

“ Why so ?” 

“ JI. Lebrenn sometimes mentions this 
name.” 

“The name of the Sieur do Plouernel; 
and why?” 

“ I will tell you directly ; but let us first 
hoar tho story of tho Three Rod Knights, 
for now I feel doubly interested in it.” 

“ You know, Jeaniko, that tho Red Cross 
Knights were Templars, and wore swords 
and helmets, like this hawk of a dragoon.” 


4 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE 


“ Very well ; but make haste, for mistress 
may come dowu or master return at any 
moment.’* 

“ Listen, Jeanike.” And Gildas chanted 
in a lugubrious tone the ballad of the Three 
Hod Knights.”* 

“‘THE THREE RED CROSS KNIGHTS. 

“ ‘ My soul is sad and weary, thinking of the woes of life, 
Of the frightful crimes and anguish with which the world 
is rife, 

And of how the fair Katelik, just a year ago to-day. 
Journeyed toward the town of Kemper, telling her rosary 
on the way. 

“ ‘ When behold, three Red Knights Templars overtook 
the timid maid. 

All appareled in full armor, while loud their horses 
neighed ; 

“ Come with us, we will deck you with jewels rare,” they 
cried. 

“ Oh ! no, fair lords, too much I dread those fierce swords 
by your side.” 

*“ “ Come with us to the convent, thou shalt have no 
cause for fear;” 

“ Seven youug brides once entered in there, who did 
never more appear.” 

Then up spoke Gontran Plouernel, “ For the eighth we 
will have you.” 

Quick across his steed he threw her, and toward the 
convent flew.' ” 

“ Oh ! the poor, dear child,” cried Jeanike, 
wringing her hands. “And what became 
of her in the convent of these Red Knights ?” 

“You will see,” said Gildas, with a sigh, 
continuing his song : 

“ ‘ None again beheld Katelik, but ere a year had sped. 
The Red Knights drew close together, and whispered in 
the r dread, 

“ How rid us of i his girl who is like to bring us shame ?” 
“ Beneath the altar buried, there is none will breathe her 
name.” ’ ” 

“ Oh !” cried Jeanike, “ they ruin her first, 
tho wretches, and then kill her to get rid of 
her.” 

“I tell you again, that is always the way 
with these soldiers,” said Gildas, in a dog- 
matic tone. 

“ ‘ ’Twas black and stormy midnight, the thunders rent 
the air, 

A traveler rought the convent, in hope of shelter there, 
WTien, looking ibrougli a crevice, by a flickering light 
be spied 

Three Red Knights around the altar, with Katelik by 
their side, 

“ ‘ Bound, half naked, and entreating, “ Dear sirs, spare 
my life, I pray ; 

By night I’ll roam the forests, and lie hid the livelong 
day.” 

The light vanished. From the open grave the traveler 
heird the cry, 

“ Oh ! baptize my babe, and give me’the last unction ere 
I die.” 

“ ‘ The traveler ran to Kemper, crying, “ Bishop, up and 
save 

Katelik uud her infant from their cruel, living grave!” 
They digged beneath the altar, and buried deep they 
fmnd 

The dead mother, with her baby on her bosom slumber- 
ing sound. 


* This ballad, which is still popular in Brittany, dates 
back to the eleventh or twelfth century ; it has there- 
fore been handed down from geneiation to generation 
for eight or nine hundred years. 


“ ‘At the sight the holy bishop fell upon bis knees In 
prayer. 

With the Red Cross Knights around him. Three days 
he lay prostrate there. 

On the third day, lo ! the infant oped his eyes, and to 
the three 

Red Knights walked he straightway, crying, “ Gontran 
Plouernel, thou art he !” ’ ” 

“ Well,” said Gildas, shaking his head, 
“ is not this a terrible story ? Did I not 
tell you that these men in arms were always 
hovering round young girls like hungry 
hawks ? But what are you thinking of, 
Jeanike ? You do not answer me — you 
seem dreaming.” 

“ It is really very extraordinary, Gildas. 
That rascally Red Knight was called the 
Sieur de Plouernel ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ I have often heard M. Lebrenn speak 
of that family as though he bore them some 
grudge, and say, in speaking of a bad man, 
he is a son of the Plouernels, just as ho 
might have said, he is a son of tho devil !” 

“What a wonderful house this is!” re- 
turned Gildas, with a meditative and half- 
frightened air. “ Hero is M. Lebrenn pre- 
tending to have a grudge against the family 
of a Red Knight who died eiglit or nine 
hundred years ago. However, Jeanike, the 
story will be of use to you, I hope.” 

“ What, Gildas,” said Jeanike, laughing, 
“ do you imagine that there are any Red 
Knights ill tho Rue St. Denis, and that they 
carry ofi“ young girls in omnibuses ?” 

Just as Jeanike uttered these words, 
a servant in livery entered the shop and 
asked for M. Lebrenn. 

“ Ho is not at home,” answered Gildas. 

“ Then, my lad,” said the servant, “ you 
can tell your master that the Colonel ex- 
pects him this morning to arrange about the 
linen which he spoke of yesterday to your 
mistress. Here is my master’s address,” 
added the servant, placing a card on tho 
counter. “ And be sure to tell your master 
to bo punctual ; the Colonel does not like 
to be kept waiting.” The servant left tho 
shop, and Gildas, mechanically taking up 
the card, read it and cried, turning pale, 
“ By St. Anne of Auray, it does not seem 
possible !” 

“ What is the matter, Gildas ?” 

“Read this, Jeanike.” And, with a 
trembling hand, ho extended tho card to his 
companion, who read, The Count Gontran 
DE Plouernel, Colonel of Dragoons, 18 
Rue de Paradis-Poissoniere. “A wonder- 
ful, wonderful house !” repeated'' Gildas, 
raising his hands to heaven, while Jeanike 
appeared as surprised and almost as fright- 
ened as the shop-boy. 


THE DRAGOON’S HELMET, &c. 


5 


CHAPTER II. 

WniLEtbe foregoing scenowas transpir- 
ing in the shop of M. Lobrenn, another 
scene was taking place, at almost the same 
moment, in the fifth story of an old house 
situated opposite that inhabited by the 
linen-draper. Wo entreat our readers to 
accompany us to a inodest apartment of ex- 
treme neatness. An iron bedstead, a com- 
mode, two chairs, and a table, over which 
hung a few shelves filled with books, consti- 
tuted the solo furniture. At the head of 
the bed a kind of trophy, composed of a 
military cap and a pair of epaulettes of a 
sub-lieutenant of light infantry, was sus- 
pended on the wall, over an ofiBcial dis- 
charge from the army framed in dark wood. 
In one corner of the room, various joiner’s 
tools were ranged on a bench •, on the bed 
was a rifle just cleaned, and on a little table 
were a bullet-mould, a bag of powder, and 
a mould for cartridges, several packages of 
which were already prepared. 

The tenant of this dwelling, a young man 
of about twenty-six, of a manly and hand- 
some figure, in a workman’s blouse, had al- 
ready risen. He was leaning on his elbow 
on the sill of his attic-window, gazing at- 
tentively at the house of M. Lebrenn, and 
particularly at one of the four windows be- 
neath which was placed the famous sign. 
The Sword of Brennus. There was nothing 

f iarticular about this window, with its spot- 
ess white curtains closely drawn, except a 
wooden box, painted green and overloaded 
with carefully-wrought carvings, which ex- 
tended the whole length of the window and 
contained a few winter heliotropes and snow- 
drops in full bloom. The features of the 
occupant of the attic wore an expression of 
rofound and almost painful melancholy, as 
e gazed on the window in question. In a 
few moments, a tear fell from the eyes of 
the young man and trickled doWn his brown 
moustache. 

The noise of a clock striking half-past 
seven aroused George Duchtee (for that was 
his name) from his reverie; he brushed Ids 
hand across his moist eyes, and quitted the 
window, saying bitterly, “ Bah ! to-day or 
to-morrow a bullet will rid me* of this mad 
love. Thank God! there will soon bo some 
real fighting, and my death at least will 
servo the cause of freedom.” Then, after a 
moment’s reflection, he added, “But my 
grandfather ; I was quite forgetting him !” 
Taking from the corner of the room a 
chafing-dish half full of live coals, which 
ho had used for running his bullets, he 
placed a little earthen saucepan, full of 
milk, over tiio fire, crumbled some ■yhito 
bread into it, and in a few minutes prepared 
an appetizing milk-porridge which might 
have excited the jealousy of a skillful 
cook. I 


After hiding the musket and ammuni- 
tion under the bed, George opened a door 
in the partition, and taking the saucepan, 
carried it into the next room, where a man 
of great age, with a mild and venerable 
face, shaded by long white hair, was lying 
in a bed far superior to his own. The old 
man seemed very feeble ; his emaciated and 
Avrinkled hands trembled continually. 
“Good morning, grandfather,” said George, 
tenderly embracing him. “ Did you sleep 
well last night ?” 

“ Pretty well, my child.” 

“ Here is your milk-porridge. I have kept 
you waiting for some time.” 

“Oh 1 no, the sun has but just risen. I 
heard you get up and open your window 
more than an hour ago.” 

“ It is true. My head was a little heavy, 
so I took the air betimes.” 

“ I also heard you walking to and fro in 
your room during the night.” 

“ Poor grandfather 1 Did I wake you ?” 

“ No, I was not asleep. But come 
George, be frank; something ails you.” 

“No 1 not at all.” 

“ For several months, you have been sad ; 
you have grown pale and have changed so 
that your friends would hardly know you ; 
you are no longer gay as on your first return 
from the regiment.” 

“ 1 assure you, grandfather — ” 

“ Assure mo ! assure mo, indeed ! I can 
trust my own eyes ; you cannot deceive 
me ; I have eyes like a mother.” 

“ That’s true,” returned George, smiling, 
‘and I ought therefore to call you grand- 
mother, for you are as good, tender, and 
solicitous toward me as a real grand- 
mother would be. But, believe mo, you 
are troubling yourself aboutnothing. Come, 
hero is your spoon ; wait till I put the little 
tray on your bod; it will bo more con- 
venient for you.” And George took from 
a corner a little, polished black-walnut tray, 
and, putting the basin of bread and milk on 
it, set it before the old man. 

“ There is nobody like you, my boy, for 
this kind of attentions,” said his grand- 
father. 

“It would be a pity if, cabinet-maker and 
joiner as I am, 1 could not have made you 
a convenient table ? ” 

“ Oh ! you have an answer for everything, 
I know,” said the old man, as ho began to 
eat with so trembling a hand that his spoon 
clattered two or three times against his 
teeth. 

“ Oh ! my poor child,” said ho sadly to 
his grandson, “see how my hand shakes. 
It seems to mo that it grows worse every 
day.” 

“On the contrary, grandfather, it seems 
to mo that it grows better.” 

“ No, no! it is too,late; tliere is no help 
for this infirmity.’’ 


6 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


. “Well, well, if it can’t be helped, you 
must make up your mind to bear it.” 

“ That is what I ought to have done 
from the beginning, but 1 cannot make up 
my mind to bo infirm and a burden on you 
for the rest of my life.” 

“Grandfather, grandfather, we shall fall 
out.” 

“ Why was I such a fool as to be a gild- 
er! In fifteen or twenty years, and often 
sooner, half the workmen become infirm old 
men like mo, but they have not all, like 
me, a grandson to spoil them — ” 

“ Grandfather — ” 

“ Yes, you spoil me ; I tell you again, you 
spoil me.” 

“ Oh ! very well, I will pay you back in 
your own coin ; it is the only way of put- 
ting out your fire, as wo say in the regi- 
ment. Now, I know a good man, called 
Father Morin ; ho was a widower, and had 
but one daughter, eighteen years old — ^ 

“ George, listen — ” 

“ No, no 1 This worthy man married his 
daughter to au honest fellow, who was too 
much addicted to boxing ; one day, he re- 
ceived an unlucky blow in an afiray, and 
died two years after his marriage, leaving 
his young wife with a little boy on her 
hands.” 

“ George ! George !” 

“ The poor woman nursed her child for 
a time ; but her husband’s death affected 
her so much that she died, leaving the boy 
a burden on his grandfather.” 

“ Good God, George, how provoking you 
are ! What is the use of always talking of 
that?” 

“ lie loved the child so much that he 
would never bo separated from him. Dur- 
ing the day, while ho was at work, a good 
neighbor took care of the urchin ; but as 
soon as ho returned at night, ho had but 
' ono thought, ono cry — for his little George. 
He nursed him as well as tho best and ten- 
deiest of mothers could have done; ho 
ruined himself in buying him pretty dresses 
and hats, and was so proud of his grandson 
that tho neighbors, wlio adored tho worthy 
man, gave him tho name of Papa Nurse.” 

“But, George — ’’ 

“ In this way ho brought up the child, 
constantly watching over him, providing 
for all his wants, and sending him to school, 
and then to a trade, till — ” 

“Well, well, so much tho worse,” cried 
tho old man in a determined tone, unable 
longer to restrain himself. “ Since wo have ' 
underhikcn to tell each other our good 
deeds, it is my turn, and wo shall see. In 
tho first place, you wero tho son of my 

E oor Georgine, whom I loved so well ; I 
avo therefore only done ray duty, mark 
that ! ” 

“And I have only done mine.” 

“Hush ! let mo speak,” cried the old man, 


gesticulating violently with his spoon. 
“ This is what you have done. You were 
so lucky as to escape the conscription.” 

“ Grandfather, take care !” 

“ Oh ! I am not afraid of you.” 

“You will overturn the basin if you ex- 
cite yourself in this way.” 

“ I excited 1 what, do you think I have no 
blood in ray veins ? Yes, answer mo, you, 
who talk so much about others ; when -piy 
infirmity began, what did you do, unhappy 
child ? You went in search of a dealer in 
human flesh.” 

“ Grandfather, your porridge is cooling ; 
do pray eat it while it is warm.” 

“ Ila ! ha ! you wish to shut my mouth ; 
but I am not your dupe. And what did 
you say to this dealer in human flesh ? 
‘ My grandfather is infirm ; he can no long- 
er support himself; I am his only resource, 
and this may fail, for I may fall sick or be 
out of work. He is old — secure him an an- 
nuity, and I will sell myself to you! And 
you (lid it,” cried the old man, with tears 
in his eyes, waving his spoon in tho air with 
BO vehej^nt a gesture, that basin, tray and 
all wou/u have fallen from tho bed, had not 
George seized them, exclaiming, “ Be quiet, 
grandfather, you will upset everything.” 

“ It is all the same to me; that shall not 
prevent me from telling why and how you 
became a soldier — why you sold yourself 
for mo to that dealer in human flesh.” 

“All this is nothing but an excuse for not 
eating your porridge ; I see that you do not 
like it.’’ 

“ 0 dear ! now he says that I do not like 
his porridge !” cried tho old man, in despair. 
“This provoking boy is determined to drive 
me to distraction.” Theu, thrusting his 
spoon furiously into tho basin, and hastily 
raising it to his lips, ho added, with his 
mouth full, “Look, this is tho way that I do 
not like it — look! look! look!” And at 
every look I he swallowed a spoonful. 

“ I’or God’s sake, grandfather, not so fast,” 
cried George, seizing the old man’s arm; 
“you will choke yourself.” 

“ It will be your fault, telling me that I 
do not like your porridge, when it is de- 
licious !” returned his grandfather, becom- 
ing calmer, tiud swallowing the milk mox*e 
leisurely ; “ it is fit for tho gods!” 

“Without vanity,” said George, smiling, 
“ I was renowned in tho regiment for making 
good porridge. Come, now I am going to 
fill your pipe.” And leaning toward tho 
old man, ho said coaxingly, “Ah ! tho good 
old grandpapa, ho likes hislittlo pipoin bed.” 

“What shall I say? George, you are 
making a pacha of me, a real pacha,” re- 
plied old Morin, while his grandson took a 
pipeTrom tho shelf, filled it with tobacco, 
lighted it, and ofiered it to him; then, lean- 
ing back on his pillow, he began to smoke 
with gusto. 


THE DRAGOON 

“What are you going to do to-day*^'" 
said George, seating himself on the foot of 
the bed. 

“ Take my usual walk on the Boulevard, 
and sit down a little if the weather is finc.’^ 

“ Hem ! Grandfather, I think that you had 
better postpone your walk. You saw the 
crowds in the streets yesterday ; they and 
tho police very nearly came to blows. To- 
day, it may be more serious.^’ 

“ Oh ! my child, you will not have any- 
thing to do with these outbreaks, will you? 
I know that it is hard to restrain yourself, 
when you feel that you are in the right; 
for it was outrageous in the government to 
forbid those banquets; but I should be so 
anxious about you 

“Make yourself easy, grandfather; you 
have nothing to fear 'on my account. But 
take my advice, and don’t go out to-day.” 

“Well, my boy, then 1 will stay at home 
and amuse myself by re.ading a little in 
your books, and looking out of the window 
at tho passers-by as 1 smoke my pipe.” 

“ Poor grandfather,” said George. smiling, 
“from this height you can see nothing but 
their hats.” 

“ That doesn’t matter; it is enough to 
amuse mo; and then I can see the neigh- 
bors opposite at their windows. By the 
way, now I think of it, there is something 
about the houses across tho way that I have 
always forgotten to ask you. Tell me, what 
is the meaning of that linen-draper’s sign 
with tho armed warrior throwing his sword 
into the scales. You must surely know, for 
you helped to fit up the shop.” 

“ I knew no more about it than you do, 
grandfather, till my employer sent mo to 
work at M'k Lebrenn’s.” 

“ They say in the neighborhood that the 
linen-draper is a very honest man; but 
what the deuce made him choose such a 
sign ? The Sword of Brennus ! if he had 
been an armorer, it could be easily accounted 
for. I know tliat there is a pair of scales 
in tho picture, and that scales remind us of 
trade ; but why does this warrior, with his 
helmet and his swaggering air, throw his 
sword into the scales ?” 

“Well, grandfather — but I am ashamed, 
at ray age, to seem to be giving you a les- 
son.” 

“Ashamed, and why ? Instead of going 
to the tavern on Sunday, you stay at home 
and study. Y'ou might well give a lesson to 
your grandfather ; there is no reason to be 
ashamed of it.” 

“ Well, grandfather, this warrior with a 
helmet, this Brennus, was u Gaul, one of 
our ancestors, and the commander of an 
army that went to Italy, more than two 
thousand years ago, to attack llome-^and 
punish it for its treachery. The city was 
restored to tho Gauls on tho payment of a 
ransom in gold, but Brennus, not thinking 


S HELMET, Ac. 7 

! the rfiQBom large enough, threw his sword 
into the scale containing tho weights.” 

“ To make the ransom heavier, tho dog ! 
He did just the opposite to tho fruit-women, 
who give the beam a push with the!.- 
thumbs. I understand that, but there are 
two things that I don’t understand: first, 
you tell me that this warrior, who lived 
more than two thousand years ago, was one 
of our ancestors?” 

“ Yes, inasmuch as Brennus and his army 
belonged to the race from which almost all 
of us in this country are descended.” 

“Wait a moment — you say that they 
were Gauls?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Then are we descended from the Gallic 
race ?” 

“ Certainly.”* 

“ But we are French. How the deuce do 
you get over that, my boy ?” 

“ Our country, the mother country of us 
all, was not always called France.” 

“ Stop ! stop ! stop !” cried tho old man, 
taking fhe pipe from his mouth; “what* 
has not Franco always been called Franco ?” 

“ No, grandfather ; in time immemorial 
our country was called Gaul, and was a re- 
public as glorious and as powerful, bat 
nappier and twice as large, as France in the 
days of tho Empire.” 

“ Bah ! that is too much to believe.” 

“ Unhappily, this was two thousand years 
ago.” • 

“Is that all, two thousand years ago! 
How you run on, my boy !” 

“ Dissension arose in Gaul, the provinces 
rose against each other.” 

“ Ah ! that is always tho harm ; that was 
what tho priests and the royalists strove so 
much for at tho time of tho Rovolution.” 

“ Therefore, grandfather, what happened 


* “ It has been my aim,” says Am£jee Thierry, in 
hii History of the Gauls, “ t'> make known that Ualliu 
race from which nineteen twentieths of us Frenchmen 
are descended. 1 have gathereiiup the scattered relics 
with religious care, and traced our ancestry through the 
annals of a score of nations. The striking characteris- 
tics of the Gallic race and those through which, in my 
opinion, it dilTers most from other races, are a personal 
bravery which was unequaled among the ancient 
nations, and a frank, impetuous, impressionable and 
eminently intelligent mind.” 

“ The first men who peopled the west of Europe,” says 
Henri Martin, in his History of France, “ were the Galls 
or Gauls, our true accestors, for their blood predomi- 
nated in that successive mixture of nations which 
formed tho modern Frenchmen; all tho good and some 
of the bad qualities of the Gauls— their most striking 
characteristics— still survive in us, and attest our an- 
tique origin.” 

•‘It is indisputable,” says Jean Reynaud, in his arti- 
cle on Druidism, “ that we have never paid sufficient 
honor to our fathers, the Gauls ; it would seem as 
though, dazzled by the prestige cf Hebrew and even of 
Greek and Latin antiquity, we had hastened to depreci- 
ate our own and pass it over in silence. But I venture 
to say, that if it had been God’s will for the Scriptures 
to have embalmed our paternal inheritance for ui as 
brilliantly as it did that of tho Hebrews, Greeks and 
Romans, far from humbling our national antiquity be- 
fore that of these nations, we should have been prouder 
of it than of any other.” 


8 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


to France in 1814 and 1815, happened to 
Gaul centuries ago.” 

“ A foreign invasion ?” 

“ Precisely. The Homans, formerly van- 
quished by Brennus, had become powerful. 
They took advantage of the dissensions of 
our lathers, and invaded the country — " 

‘•Just as the Cossacks and the Prussians 
invaded us 

“ Exactly so. But the Romans did what 
the good friends of the Bourbons, the King 
of Prussia and the Emperor of Russia, dare- 
ed not do, though not for want of good-will ; 
despite the heroic resistance of our fore- 
fathers, who were as bravo as lions, though 
unhappily divided among themselves, they 
were reduced to slavery like negroes.” 

“ Good God ! is it possible 

“ Yes. They wore an iron collar marked 
with the initials of their masters, when 
these initials were not branded on their 
foreheads by hot irons.” 

“Our forefathers!” cried the old man, 
clasping his hands with sorrowful indig- 
nation, “ our forefathers !” 

“ And if they attempted to flee, their mas- 
ters cut off their noses and ears, or even 
their hands and feet.” 

“ Our forefathers !” 

“ At other times, their masters diverted 
themselves by throwing them to the wild 
beasts; or put them to death with fright- 
ful tortures, when they refused to till the 
lands, under tlfo lash of their conquerors, 
which had belonged to them.” 

“ But, stop,” resumed the old man, collect- 
ing his thoughts, “ wait a bit — that reminds 
me of a song addressed by an old friend to us 
humble folk.” 

“One of our B^rangePs songs, entitled 
‘ The Gallic Slaves’ is it not, grandfather ?” 

“ Just so, my boy. It begins, 

“ ‘ Some ancient GauU, unhappy slaves, 

One night, when all arounii them slept.’ 

and the chorus is, 

“ ‘ Come, once the terror of the world. 

Let’s drown our cares in wine.’ 

It is of our fathers, the Gauls, then, that 
B^ranger speaks. Alas! poor men, like 
many others, they drank to forget their mis- 
fortunes.” 

“Yes, grandfather, but they soon saw that 
to forget their misfortunes was of no use, and 
that it was better to break their chains. 
The Gauls, therefore, after numerous insur- 
rections — ” 

“ I say, my boy, it strikes me that this 
method is not very new, but it is always 
tho best one. Eli! cb !” added the old man, 
knocking tho ashes from his pipe. “ Do you 
sec, George, sooner or later, we must always 
come back to that good old mother, in- 
surrection, as in 1789, as in 1830, and as to- 
morrow, perhaps.” 


“ Poor grandfather !” thought George,. '"he 
little thinks how near he is to the truth. 
You are right,” he continued aloud ; “ as to 
liberty, the people must help themselves 
from tho di. h, or nothing but the crumbs 
will be left them ; they will be robbed of 
it, as they have been for these eighteen 
years past.” 

“ And frightfully robbed, my poor boy ; I 
can testify to that.” 

“ Happily, the burnt child — you know the 
proverb, grandfather, a word is sufficient. 
The lesson has been a good one. But to re- 
turn to the Gauls ; they had recourse, as you 
say, to that good old mother, insurrection, 
who did not fail her dear children, and the 
latter, by dint of perseverance, energy, and 
bloodshed, succeeded in reconquering part of 
their liberty from tho Romans, who, more- 
over, had not rechristened the country, but 
called it Roman Gaul.” 

“Just as we now say French Algeria ?” 

“ Just so.” 

“ Well, then, our brave Gauls, thanks to 
the good old mother, insurrection, managed 
to get up in tho world again, as the saying 
is. This puts new life in my veins.” 

“ Ah ! grandfather, stop a moment ; what 
our fathers had sulfered was nothing in 
comparison to what they were to suffer.” 

“ And I was already easy in my mind ! 
Pray tell mo what happened to them.” 

“ Fancy that thirteen or fourteen hundred 
years ago, hordes of semi-barbarians, called 
Franks, from the depths of the forests of 
Germany — true Cossacks, in short — attack- 
ed the Roman armies, enervated by tho con- 
quest of Gaul, defeated them, drove them 
out, and seized in t’urn on our unhappy 
country, which thcy„ even robbed of its 
name, calling it Franco, by right of con- 
quest.” , 

“ The brigands !” cried the old man. 
“ Upon my word, I prefer the Romans ; they 
left us our name at least.” 

“ It is true ; and then the Romans were 
the most civilized people of tho world, 
their barbarity toward the slaves excepted ; 
they had covered Gaul with magniticent 
buildings, and restored a part of their lib- 
erty to our fathers, either willingly or by 
force, while tho Franks, as I have said, 
were true Cossacks, and under their domin- 
ion, tho Gauls had to begin their struggle 
anew.” 

“Good God!” 

“ These hordes of Frankish bandits — ’’ 

“ Call them Cossacks ; that is what they 
were.” 

“Even worse, if possible, grandfather. 
These Frankish bandits — or Cossacks, i. you 
cho(^e — called their chiefs Kings. I'his 
roytu seed took root and flourished in our 
country, which is the reason why for so 
many centuries wo have had the happiness 
of possessing kings of Frankish origin, and 


THE DRAGOON’! 

why the royalists call them kings by divine 
right.” 

“ Say rather by Cossack right. A fine 
present !” 

“ The chiefs called themselves Dukes and 
Counts ; this seed also took root and flour- 
ished in our country, which is the reason 
why we have so long had the pleasure of 
possessing a nobility of Frankish origin, 
who have treated us as a conquered race.” 

“ What is it that you say exclaimed 
the old man in astonishment. “ If I under- 
stand you rightly, my boy, these Frankish 
bandits, these Cossacks, kings and chiefs, 
once masters of Gaul, divided among them- 
selves the lands which the Gauls had in 
part reconquered from the Homans.” 

“ Yes, grandfather ; the Frankish kings 
and nobles robbed the Gauls of their pro- 
perty, and divided the lands and men among 
themselves, as they would have divided an 
estate and its cattle.” 

“ And our fathers were thus despoiled of 
their goods by these Cossacks ?” 

“Our fathers were reduced to slavery 
anew, as under the Romans, and forced to 
cultivate for the Frankish kings and nobles 
the soil that had belonged to them ever 
since Gaul had been Gaul.” 

“ So that the Franki.sh kings and nobles, 
after robbing them of their property, lived 
upon tho sweat of their brow ?” 

“ Yes, grandfather, they sold them all — 
men, women, and children — in tho market- 
place. If they refused to labor, they beat 
them as they would have done a restive 
animal, or killed them, through anger or 
cruelty, as they would have killed a horse 
or dog; for our fathers and mothers be- 
longed to tho Frankish kings and nobles, 
like sheep to their master, by right of thO' 
conquest of tho Gauls by tho Franks. This 
state of things lasted till tho revolution 
which you witnessed, grandfather; and you 
remember tho vast diflcrenco that existed 
even then between a noble and a plebeian, 
a lord and a workingman.” 

“ Yes, indeed, tho difference that there is 
between the master and tho slave.” 

“Or, if you prefer, between the Frank 
and tho Gaul.” 

“ But if this is true,” cried the old man, 
“ then I am no longer proud of being a 
Frenchman, Yet how, in heaven’s name, 
could our fathers, tho Gauls, have allowed 
themselves to be thus subjugated by a hand- 
ful of Franks — no, of Cossacks, for centu- 
ries ?” 

“ Ah! grandfather, these Franks pos- 
sessed tho land which they had stolen; 
therefore they possessed tho wealth. The 
imlnense army was composed of their piti- 
less hordes; then, half-exhausted by their 
long struggle with the Romans, our fathers 
were soon forced to submit to another ter- 
rible influence; that of the priests.” 


S HELMET, &c. 9 

“That was all that was wanting to com- 
plete their wretchedness.” 

“To their eternal shame, almost all the 
Gallic bishops forswore their country from 
tho time of the Conquest, and made common 
cause with tho Frankisli kings and nobles, 
whom they soon managed to rule through 
cunning and flattery, and from whom they 
wrung all tho land and money that they 
could. Many of these holy bishops also 
had serfs, whom they sold and worked like 
tho Frankish conquerors, and lived in tho 
most horrible debauchery — degrading, tyr- 
annizing over, and brutalizing the Gallic 
population, preaching to them resignation, 
respect and obedience toward tho Franks, 
and threatening with tho devil tho wretches 
w'ho would have gladly rebelled, in behalf 
of tho liberty of their country, against these 
foreign lords and kings, who owed their 
power and wealth solely to violence, rob- 
liery, and murder.”* 


* It is for the sake of our brethren of the people and 
the working classes that we write this history under a 
f>rni which we strive to render urn using. Wo entreat 
them, therefore, to read these notes, which are, to to 
speak, the key to the stories, and which prove that, 
uuder the form of romance, there will be found the 
most absolute historical fact. We give a few extracts 
from ancient and modern liistorians, which will prove, 
though from different standpoints, that there have 
always beeu two races among us, the conquerors and 
the conquered. 

A chronicle of the year 1119, cited in Amddfe 
Thierry’s History of the Merovingian Times, says, 
*' VV hence it comes that to day this nation calls all those 
Franks in its tongue who are ia the full enjaymentof 
liberty ; as to those living in it in the condition of 
tributaries, it is clear that they are not F i anks by right 
of origin, but are only the sons of Gauls subjected to the 
Franks by right of conque.'it.” Charles L'lyseau.in his 
treatise on the ])osts of the nobility, says in turn, in 
1701 : “ With respect to our Franks, when they con- 
quered the Gauls, it is certain that they made them- 
selves lords of the property and persons of tho same; 
I mean absolute lords, both as to public and private 
dominion. As to the person, they made the Gauls 
serfs.” Later, the Count da Boulainviliiers, one of the 
priudest champiot.sor French aristocracy and royalty, 
wrote, ‘‘The Franks, the conquerors of Gaul, established 
their government therein wholly distinct from the 
subjugated nation. The Gauls became the subjects, 
the Franks were the lords and masters. From the 
time of the Conquest, the Franks by origin have been 
the true nobles and the only persons eligible to be so, 
and have enjoyed certain material advantages, in conse- 
quence of this nobility, such as exemption from public 
burdens, the exercise of justice where the Gau s are 
concerned, etc.” Later still, Sieyis, in his famous 
pamphlet. What is the Third Estate 1 which sounded 
the first aignalTor revolt against royally in ’k9, said, 
‘‘ If the aristocrats undertake, even at the price of that 
liberty of which they show themselves unworthy, to 
lio'd the people in buedage, the Third Estate will de- 
mand by what right the^ do so. Should the reply be, 
by right of conquest, it will be necessary to go back 
some distance, 1 admit, but the Third Esia'c need not 
fear to go back t ) past ages. Why should it not send 
back to the forests of Germania all the families who 
maintain the mad pretension of having sprung from 
the race of the conquerors and having succeeded to 
their rights by conquest? In such a cane, I think that 
the purified nation could console it.<'elf fur being com- 
posed only of the descendants of the Gauls." Lastly, M. 
liuizot, in thela'-t jear of the Kestora ion, wrote these 
eloquent words, “The revolution t'f '69 was a true war 
between foieign rations. For moiethan thirteen hun- 
dred years, France had contained two nations, a nation 
ofconquerorsan 1 auation of tho conquered. For more 
than thirteen liuudred yeara, the conquered nation had 
been struggling to throw tff the yoke of the conquering 
nation. Our history is the history of this conflict. 


10 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


“ Ah ! but TThy the deuce didn’t that 
good old mother, insurrection, step in, in spite 
of these accursed bishops, and mend mat- 
ters ? Did our fathers let themselves be 
fleeced without rebelling from the time of the 
Conquest till the glorious days of tho Revolu- 
tion, when wo began to make these Frankish 
kings and nobles, and their allies, tho cler- 
gy, who, by force of habit, had continued to 
grow fat on our spoils, disgorge their plun- 
der?” 

“ft is not likely that all this occurred 
without numerous insurrections against the 
kings, nobles, and priests. But, grand- 
father, I have told you the little I know, 
and that little I learned while I was fitting 
up the shop of M. Lebrenn, the linen-draper 
opposite.” 

“ How was that, ray boy ?” 

“ M. Lebrenn, who is one of the best men 
in tho world, talked to me while I was at 
work, and told me the history of our fore- 
fathers, of which I was ignorant like you. 
My curiosity once awabened, and it is 
great — ” 

“ I believe you.” 

“ I put a thousand questions to him while 
I was planing and fitting, which he answer- 
ed with fatherly goodness. It was in 
this way that I learned the little that I 
have told you. But,” added George, with a 
scarcely smothered sigh, “my carpenter 
work finished, the lessons in history w^ero 
broken olf. I have told you all that I 
know, therefore, grandfather.” 

“ Ah ! is the linen-draper opposite so 
learned ?” 

“ lie is as learned as he is patriotic; he is 
an old Gaul, as he calls himself. And,” 
added George, unable to repress a slight 
blush, “ I have sometimes heard him say to 
his daughter, while proudly embracing her 
for some answer she had made him, ‘ Ah ! 
you too are a true Gallic woman.’ ” 

At this moment, Father jMorin and George 
heard a knock at the door of the next 
room. 

“ Come in !” said George. 

Some one entered. 

“ Who’s there ?” asked the young man. 

“ It is I, Lebrenn,” answered a voice. 

“ What ! tho worthy linen-draper of whom 
we were just speaking — tho old Gaul,” said 
Father Morin to himself. “ Go quickly, my 
boy, and shut the door.” 


In our days, the decisive battle was fought; it was 
called tho Kevolutiun. Franks and Gauls, lords and 
peasants, nobles and plebciaos, all had alikecallc 1 them 
selves Irenchinen long before this revolution, and h id 
alike had Francs for their country. Thirteen centuries 
had been employed in blending the conquering and the 
conquered races, tho victors and the vanquished, into 
one nation ; but the primitive differenco had continued 
through tho ages and resisted their inlluence; the 
struggle had continued through every century, under 
every fiassible form and with every possible weapon, 
and when in 1789 deputies from all France met iu one 
assembly, the two nations hastened to take up the old 
quarrel. The time had come to settle the question.” 


George, as agitated as surprised by this 
unexpected visit, left bis grandfather’s room, 
and found himself face to face with Lo- 
brenn. 


CHAPTER HI. 

Marik Lebrenn, though appearing 
younger, was about fifty years of ago. His 
great stature, tho nervous muscular develop- 
ment of his neck, arms, and shoulders, the 
proud and resolute bearing of his head, his 
broad and strongly marked countenance, 
tlie firm and penetrating glance of his sca- 
blue eyes, and his thick and shaggy, bright 
chestnut hair, somewhat grizzled and grow- 
ing rather low on a forehead that seemed 
as impenetrable as marble, presented the 
characteristic typo of the Breton race, in 
which tho Gallic blood and language have 
been perpetuated almost unmixed to our 
day. A good-natured smile lurked on the 
full, rosy lips of M. Lebrenn, mingled at 
times with an expression of subtle irony. 
Wo shall complete the picture by sayiug 
that ho was dressed iu a large blue paletot 
and gray trowsers. George Duebene, aston- 
ished and almost dumlbundereil by this un- 
expected visit, waited in silence for the 
linen-draper to begin tho conversation. 

“My dear George,” said Lebrenn, “six 
months ago you were omployed by your 
master to execute certain tasks iu my shop, 
and I was highly pleased with your skill 
and intelligence.” 

“Tho kindness which you showed me 
proved as much, sir.” 

“You earned it. I saw that you were 
industrious aud desirous to learn ; I know, 
besides, like all tho neighbors, of your 
praisewortliy conduct toward your old 
grandfather, who has lived iu this house 
tor tho last fifteen years.” 

“Sir,” said George, embarrassed by these 
praises, “ my conduct — ” 

“Is vc ; j natural, you would say. Well, 
so be. it. Your employment in my shop 
lasted three mouths. I was greatly pleased 
with our acquaintanceship, and said to you, 
cordially, ‘George, avo arc neighbors; conic 
aud SCO mo on Sunday or any other day al- 
ter your work is finished ; you will give mo 
pleasure, great pleasure.’ ” 

“ Indeed, sir, you were so kind as to 
so.” 

“And yet, George, you have never since 
set foot in my house.” 

“ I entreat you, sir, to attribute ray reserve 
neither to ingratitude nor forgetfulness.” 

“ 'J o Avhat then ?” 

“ Sir—” 

“Stop, George, he frank, you love my 
daughter.” 

Tho young man started, changed color, 


THE DRAGOON’S HELMET, &c. 


11 


and, after hesitating for some moments, re- 
plied in a voice of emotion, “ It is true, sir.” 

“ So that, your work finished, you did not 
visit U 3 for fear of falling more deeply in 
love.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Have you never spoken of this love to 
my daughter ?” 

“ Never, sir.” 

“I knew it. But why did you lack con- 
fidence in me, George ?” 

“Sir,” replied the young man, with em- 
barrassment, “ I dared not.” 

“ Why not ? because I am a tradesman — 
a rich man compared with you who live by 
your daily labor ?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

After a moment’s silence, the linen-dra- 
per resumed, “Permit me to ask you a ques- 
tion, which you need not answer unless you 
see fit.” 

“ Willingly, sir.” 

“About fifteen months ago, some time af- 
ter your return from the army, were you 
on the point of being married ?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ To a young artificial-flower maker, an 
orphan, by the name of Josephine Eloi?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Can you tell me why this marriage did 
not take place ?” ' 

Tho young man blushed, his features con- 
tracted painfully, and ho hesitated to re- 
ply. Lebrenn observed him attentively. 
Troubled and surprised at his silence, ho 
could not refrain from exclaiming, bitterly 
and harshly, “ Is it so ? First seduction, 
then abandonment and forgetful ness ? Your 
agitation but too well shows it.” 

“You are mistaken, sir,” e.xclaimed 
George, eagerly, “ my agitation and emotion 
are caused by cruel memories. I will tell 
you tho reason ; I never lie.” 

“ I know it, George.” 

“Josephine lived in the same house with 
my employer ; it was in this way that I be- 
came acquainted with her. She was very 
beautiful and, though without education, 
full of natural talent. I knew that she was 
accustomed to labor and poverty, and I be- 
lieved her virtuous. I was tireaof a lonely 
lifoj I thouglit, besides, of my grandfitther; 
a woman would aid mo in taking care of him. 
I oficred myself, therefore, to Josephine; 
she appeared delighted, and herself fixed 
the wedding-day. And those, sir, who told 
you of seduction and abandonment, lied '” 

“ 1 believe, you,”, said Lebreub, cordially 
extending his hand -to tho young man. “ I 
am glad to believe you; but why was the 
marriage broken oflF?” 

“ A week before the time appointed, Jo- 
sephine disappeared, writing to me that all 
between us was ended. I have since learn- 
ed that, yielding to the evil counsels of a 
lost female friend, she had followed her 


example. Having always lived in poverty 
and sufl'ered severe privations, in spite of 
twelve or fifteen hours of daily labor, Jo- 
sephine shrunk from the life I ofiered her 
— a life as laborious and poor as her own.” 

“And like so many others,” said Lebrenn, 
“ she succumbed to tho temptation of a less 
painful mode of life. Ah ! poverty, pov- 
erty !” 

“ I have never since seen Josephine, sir. 
I am told that she is now one of tho leading 
dancers at the public balls. She has 
changed her name for a nickname given her 
from the habit that she has of aptly impro- 
vising ballads. In short, she is lost forever. 
Yet she had an excellent heart. Now, sir, 
you understand the cause of my emotion 
just now, when you spoke of Josephine.” 

“ This emotion does credit to your heart, 
George. You have been slandered ; I sus- 
pected it — now I am certain. Lot us say no 
more about it. Now, listen to what hap- 
pened three days ago at my house. I was 
spending the evening with my wife and 
daughter. For some time, Velleda appeared 

E ensive; then, suddenly taking my hand and 
er mother’s, ‘ I have something to confide 
to you,’ said she ; ‘ I have long deferred it, 
in order to have time for reflection and to 
be sure that I did not speak hastily — I love 
George Duchene.’” 

“Good heavens ! sir,” cried George, clasp- 
ing his hands with inexpressible joy. “Is 
it possible your daughter loves mo ?” 

“That was what Velleda said,” replied 
Lebrenn, tranquilly. ‘“I thank you for 
your frankness, my daughter,’ I answered, 
‘ but how did this love originate V ‘ In the 
first place, father, from learning of George’s 
conduct toward his grandfather, then from 
hearing you praise his character, his indus- 
trious habits, his intelligence, and his efforts 
to instruct himself. Then his polite and 
gentle mannersl^'liis frankness, and his con- 
versation won my heart. I have never said 
a word to him that could make him suspect 
my love, anS he on his side has never gone 
beyond the bounds of respectful reserve: 
but how happy I should bo if he shared 
the feeling which I have for him, and if 
this marriage suited your wishes ! Should 
it be otherwise, I shall respect your will, 
knowing that you will respect my liberty. 
If I do not marry George Duchene, I shall 
never marry. You have often told me, 
father, that I had character; you will 
therefore believe in my resolution. If this 
marriage is impossible, you will neither 
see me peevish nor sad; your affection will 
console me ; happy as in tho past, I shall 
grow old by your side. This is the truth ; 
npw decide.’ ” 

George had listened to Lebrenn with in- 
creasing amazement, imabloto belieyowhat 
ho heard. At last he stammered, “Sir, is 
this a dream ?” 


12 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


“ No; my daughter, I assure you, was 
never more wide awake than at that mo- 
ment ; I know her frankness and firmness. 
My wife and I are sure that, if this marriage 
does not take place, Velleda’s afiection for 
us will never change, hut she will never 
marry. Now, it is natural that a young 
and beautiful girl of eighteen should mar- 
ry, and as the choice which Velleda has 
made is worthy of her and of us, my wife 
and I decided, after mature reflection, that 
we might accept you as a son-in-law.’^ 

It is impossible to describe the expression 
of intoxicating joy depicted on George’s 
features as he listened to the linen-draper’s 
words. lie stood mute, as if struck with 
amazement. 

“ Come, George,” resumed Lebrenn, smil- 
ing ; “ what is there so extraordinary and 
incredible in what I have said? For three 
months, you were at work in my shop, and 
before that time, I knew that you had 
enlisted as a soldier to secure a subsistence 
for your grandfather. Your rank as sub- 
lieutenant and two wounds prove that you 
served with honor. During your stay at 
my house, I was enabled to perceive — ^and I 
do not lack discernment — ^your worth, your 
intelligence, and your skill in your vocation. 
Deliglited with your acquaintance, I urged 
you to visit me frequently; and your 
reserve on this point is a new proof of 
your delicacy, liut, above all, my daugh- 
ter loves you, and you love her. You 
are twenty-seven, she is eighteen. She is 
charming, and you are a handsome young 
fellow. You are poor, but I have enough 
for you both. You are a mecha&ic, so was 
my father. Why the deuce should you be 
80 surprised ? Does it seem like a fairy tale ?” 

These friendly words did not put an end 
to the amazement of George, who really 
thought himself in fairy-land, as the shop- 
keeper had said. With moist eyes and 
beating heart, he could only stammer, “ Ah ! 
sir, forgive my confusion, but I am so 
stunned with happiness at having heard 
from your lips that you consent to my 
marriage.” 

“Wait a moment,” interrupted Lebrenn; 
“ observe that, despite my good opinion of 
you, I only said that wo had decided that 
we might take you as our son-in-law. It was 
conditional, and the conditions were these : 
first, that you should clear yourself from 
the charge of seduction falsely brought 
against you.” 

“Sir, have I not sworn to you that it is 
untrue ?” 

“ Yes, and I believe you; I only speak of 
this first condition to recall it to memory. 
As to the second, for there are two — ” 

“And what is tliis condition, sir?” asked 
George, with indescribable anxiety, begin- 
ning td fear that ho had indulged in false 
hopes. 


“ Listen to me, George. We have talked 
little about politics; when you were at 
work at my house, the conversation turned 
chiefly on the history of our fathers. I 
have heard, however, that you hold ad- 
vanced opinions — in short, that you are a 
Republican Socialist.” 

“ I have heard you say, sir, that every 
sincere opinion was honorable.” 

“ I do not retract my words, I do not 
blame you; but there is a wide abyss be- 
tween the desire to make your opinions 
prevail peaceably and the design to insure 
their triumph by force ; is there not?” 

• “Yes,” replied the young man, looking 
at the shop-keeper with an air of surprise 
and anxiety. 

“Now, unarmed demonstration is never 
attempted alone; is it?” 

“ Sir,” said the young man with embar- 
rassment, “ I do not know.” 

“Yes, you must know that usually these 
men fraternize with those of the same opin- 
ion — in a word, that they belong to secret 
societies, and that when an outbreak occurs, 
they swell its ranks; do they not?” 

“ I know, sir, that it was in this way that 
the revolution of 1830 was effected,” replied 
George, his heart wrung more and more. 

“ Certainly,” returned Lebrenn, “ it was 
in this way that it was effected, as others 
will probably be also. Nevertheless, as 
revolutions, like insurrections, are not al- 
ways successful, and as those engaged in 
them risk their heads, you can understand, 
George, that my wife and I are not inclined 
to give our daughter to a man who no 
longer belongs to himself, but who is liable 
to be called upon at any moment to take up 
arms with the secret society of which he 
is a member, and to risk his life like a man 
of faith and conviction. This is noblo and 
heroic, I iidmit; the objection to it is that 
the Chamber of Peers, not appreciating 
this kind of heroism, send the conspirators 
to Mount St. Michel, if they do not cut off 
their heads. Now, I ask you in good faith, 
George, would it not be sad for a young 
wife to be constantly in danger of having 
a husband either headless or a prisoner for 
life?” 

George turned pale, struck with conster 
nation. “Sir, one word,” he stammered 
forth. 

“ Stop ! in an instant I shall have done,” 
returned tho shop-keeper ; then ho added in 
a grave, almost solemn voice, “ George, I 
have blind faith in your word, as I have 
proved to you; swear to mo that you do 
not belong to any secret society; I will 
believe you, and you shall become my son- 
in-law, or rather my son,” added Lebrenn, 
extending his hand to George, “ for since I 
have known and appreciated you, I have 
always lelt for you, 1 repeat, as much inter- 
est as sympathy.” 


THE DRAGOON’B HELMET, <fec. 13 


Tho praises and cordiality of the linen- 
draper rendered the blow still heavier that 
dashed George’s hopes to tho ground. 
Courageous and energetic as he was, his 
limbs gavo way, he covered his face with 
his hands, and burst into tears. Lebrenn 
looked at him commiseratingly, and said in 
a voice of emotion, “I am waiting f.:r your 
oath, George.” 

The young man turned aside his head to 
wipe his tears, then rose, saying, “ I cannot 
take the oath that you require.” 

“ Tlicn, your marriage with my daugh- 
ter — ” 

Must be renounced by me, sir,” answered 
George, with a smothered sob. 

“Then, George,” resumed the linen-dra- 
per, “ you admit that you belong to a secret 
society ?” 

Theyoung man’s silence was his solereply. 

“ Well,” said Lebrenn, rising with a sigh 
of regret, “ all is ended. Ilappily, my 
daughter has courage.” 

“ I shall strive, sir, to have the same.” 

“ George,” said Lebrenn, extending his 
hand, “you are a man of honor; I need not 
ask you to be silent respecting this conver- 
sation. You see that I entertain the most 
friendly feelings toward you ; it is not my 
fault if my projects — I will say more, my 
desires — encounter an insurmountable ob- 
stacle.” 

“ Never, sir, shall I forget the mark of 
esteem with which you have just honored 
me. You act with the wisdom and pru- 
dence of a father, and, however much I 
may suffer from it, I respect your determina- 
tion. I ought even, I know, to have an- 
ticipated your question, and told you of the 
sacred pledge that bound me to my party. 
Doubtless, I should have made you tins 
confession on recovering from my intoxica- 
tion, and reflecting on tho duties- imposed 
on me by this unhoped-for happiness, this 
union. lJut forgive me, sir,” added George, 
with a tearful voice, “ I have no longer the 
right to speak of this beautiful dream. I 
shall always, however, remember with pride 
that you have said to me, you might have 
been my son.” 

“Well, George, I expected nothing less 
of you,” said Lebrenn, advancing toward 
tho door; then, holding out his hand to the 
young man, he added, in a tremulous voice, 
“ Once more, adieu.” 

“ Adieu, sir,” said George, taking the ex- 
tended hand of the linen-drai)er. But the 
latter, with a sudden movement, drew the 
young man tohis breast, saying, with moist 
eyes and a voice full of emotion, “ Come, 
George! honest man! noble heart! I judged 
you rightly.” 

George looked at Lebrenn with amaze- 
ment, unable to utter a word ; but the latter 
said in a low voice, “ Six weeks ago, in tho 
Rue do Lomreine — 


George started, and cried with an air of 
alarm, “ What, sir ?” 

“Number seventeen, on the fourth floor, 
at the end of the court — ” 

“ Sir, again I beg of you — ” 

“ An artisan, by tho name of Dupont, in- 
troduced you, with your eyes bandaged — ” 

“ Sir, I cannot reply to you.” 

“ Five members of a secret society re- 
ceived you. You took tho customary oath, 
and were conducted back, with your eyes 
still bandaged.” 

“ Sir,” cried George, as stupefied as fright- 
ened by this revelation, and endeavoring to 
regain his coolness, “ I know not what you 
mean.” 

“ I presided over the committee that even- 
ing, my brave George.” 

“You, sir?” exclaimed George, still hesi- 
tating to believe Lebrenn. 

“ 1 myself.” And seeing George’s incre- 
dulity, he resumed, “Yes, it was I that 
presided; I will prove it to you.” He 
whispered a few words in tho ear of George 
who, unable longer to doubt the truth, cried, 
“ But then, sir, what was the meaning oi 
; tho oath you just required of me ?” 

“It was a last trial.” 

“ A trial !” 

“ Y'ou must pardon me, my good George. 
Fathers are so distrustful! Thank God! 
you have not disappointed my expectations. 
You have bravely passed through the 
ordeal ; you have preferred tho ruin of 
your dearest hopes to a falsehood, though 
I you were certain that 1 should blindly 
believe your words, whatever they might 
be.” 

“ Sir,” resumed George, with a hesitation 
that affected the linen-draper, “this time 
may I believe, may I hope with certainty? 
I entreat you to tell me. If you knew what 
I suffered just now !” 

“ On my w-ord as an honest man, my dear 
George, my daughter loves you, and my 
wife and I consent to your marriage, which 
delights us, because we see therein a happy 
future for our child. Is that clear ?” 

“ Ah ! sir,” cried George, warmly clasp- 
ing the hand of the shop-keeper, who re- 
sumed : 

“As to the precise time of your marriage, 
my de.ar George, the events of yesterday, 
those w'hich are preparing to-day, and the 
course taken by our secret society — ” 

“ You, sir !” cried George, unable to re- 
frain from interrupting Lebrenn to testify 
his surprise, a moment- forgotten in the in- 
toxication of joy, “you, sir, a member of 
our secret society — can it be possible ?” 

Gome,” returned Lebrenn, smiling, “ my 
brave George’s surprise is beginning anew. 
But why should I not be a member of this 
secret society ? Is it because, without being 
rich, I have some money and a house of my 
own ? What have I to do, you would ask. 


14 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


in a party the end of which is to open the 
way for the masses to political life by 
means of universal suffrage and to the pos- 
session of property by means of the organ- 
ization of labor? Well, my dear George, it 
is just because I possess these things, that 
it is my duty to aid my brethren who do 
not possess them to gain them.’' 

“'i'heso are generous sentiments,” cried 
George; “the case is rare that men who 
have attained their goal by dint of toil, 
turn back to lend a helping hand to their 
less fortunate brethren.” 

“ No, George, the case is not rare. And 
when, in a few hours, perhaps, you see our 
society, of which I have long been one of 
the leaders, rush to arms, you will find 
therein merchants, artists, manufacturers, 
literary men, scholars, physicians, citizens,* 
in short, living for the most part like me, 
in modest competency, having no ambition, 
wishing for nothing but the elevation of 
their brethren of the people, and desirous 
to lay down their muskets after the conflict, 
to return to their laborious and peaceful 
life.” 

“ Ah ! sir, how surprised and happy I am 
at what you tell me !” 

“ Surprised again ! Poor George ! And 
why? because there are citizens who are 
republican socialists ? Reflect seriously, 
and see whether tlio cause of the citizens 
is not allied to that of the masses. May 
not I, for instance, who was one of the 
latter yesterday, by a stroke of ill-luck re- 
turn to their condition to-morrow ? or may 
not my son do so after me? Are not all 
we potty tradesmen at the discretion of the 
lords of the strong box, as our fathers were 
at the mercy of the lords of the castles ? 
Are not the small proprietors as completely 
subjugated by these dukes of mortgage, 
these marquises of usury, and these counts 
of stockjobbing? Are not we traders, in 
spite of probity, industry, economy and in- 
telligence, daily exposed to ruin at the least 
crisis, when, through fear, cupidity, or des- 
potic caprice, it pleases the autocrats of 
capital to ref^use us credit and reject our 
signatures, however honorable they may 
be ? If this credit, instead of bfiing monop- 
olized by the few, were organized in a dem- 
ocratic manner hy the State, as it should 
and will be, should wo be continually ex- 
posed to ruin from the sudden withdrawal 
of capital, the usurious rate of discount, or 
the consequences of a pitiless competition ? 
Are not all of us old men to-day on the 
brink of seeing ourselves in a position as 
precarious as that of your grandfather, an 
invalid of toil, who, after thirty years of 
industry and probity, would have died of 


* By citizens here are meant the bourcceois or burgh- 
ers, or those who enjoy certain political rights and mu- 
nicipal pririleges, from which the masses are debarred. 


want had it not been for your devotion, my 
dear George? And once ruined like so 
many other tradesmen, have I the certainty 
that my son will find means to earn his 
daily bread, or that he will not be subject, 
like you, George — like all the masses — to 
the homicidal stoppage of work which 
makes you die of slow starvation ? Would 
not my daughter? — but no, I know her; 
she would kill herself first. In short, how 
many poor young persons, brought up in 
ease, and whoso fathers were humble 
tradesmen like me, have been plunged by 
the ruin of their family into horrible desti- 
tution, and sometimes, through this destitu- 
tion, into the depths of vice, like that young 
working-woman whom you were on the 
point of marrying? No, no, George, the 
intelligent citizens — and they are numerous 
— do not separate their cause from that of 
their brethren of the masses ; they have 
fought side by side for centuries to regain 
their liberty ; their blood has mingled to 
cement the holy union of the conquered 
against the conquerors — of the weak and 
friendless against power and privilege. 
Why, in short, should not the citizens and 
the masses have common interests ? They 
have always had the same enemies. But 
enough of politics, George ; let us talk of 
you and my daughter, A word more, how- 
ever, on a serious matter. The agitation in 
Paris commenced last evening; this morn- 
ing it is at its height; our sections are 
warned, and are momentarily expecting a 
call to arms. Did you know it?” 

“ Yes, I was apprised yesterday.” 

“ This evening or to-night we shall take 
up arms. My wife and daughter know 
nothing about it, not that I distrust them,” 
added Lebrenn, smiling, “ they are true 
Gauls, worthy of our mothers, those heroic 
women, who cheered on their fathers, 
brothers, sons and Jmsbands, by voice and 
gesture, in the battle. But you know our 
laws; they enjoin on us absolute silence. 
Within three days, George, the throne of 
Louis PJiilippe will bo overthrown or our 
party will be once more defeated, but not 
discouraged. The future is ours. In this 
uprising, mv friend, you or I may fall at 
the barricade.” 

“ Such are the chances of war, sir ; may 
you bo spared !” 

“To tell ray daughter in advance that 
you love her and that I consent to your 
marriage, would be to double her regret- 
should you fall.” 

“ It is true.” 

“I ask you, therefore, George, to await 
the issue of the crisis before speaking to 
her. Should I fall, my wife will know my 
last wishes ; they are that you should mar- 
ry Velleda.” 

“Sir,” said George, in a voice of deep 
emotion, “ ray feelings at this moment are 


THE DRAGOON’S HELMET, <kc. 


15 


inexpressible. I can only say, Yes, I will bo 
worthy of your daughter, I will bo worthy 
of you ; the greatness of the obligation does 
not appall mo; believe me, sir, my heart 
and life will sufiBco to repay it.” 

“ I believe you, my bravo George,” re- 
turned the tradesman, affectionately press- 
ing the young man’s hand. “One word 
more — have you arms ?” 

“ I have a musket concealed hero, and 
fifty cartridges, which I have made during 
the night.” 

“ If the conflict begins to-night, as it 
must inevitably do, wo will barricade the 
street as high up as my house. The post is 
an excellent one, and Ave possess several 
magazines of arms and powder. I went 
this morning to visit the ammunition, 
which was reported to have been discovered 
by the police spies, but .such was not the 
case. At the first signal, return home ; I 
will inform you, and huzza for the barri- 
cades ! Tell mo, is your grandfather to be 
trusted ?” 

“ I will answer for him as for myself.” 

“ Is ho in his room ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“Well, lot me give him a great happi- 
ness,” Lebrcnn entered the room of the 
old man, who was still occupied in smok- 
ing his pipe, like a pacha, as ho said. 
“ My good sir,” said the linen-draper, 
“ yOur grandson is so good and generous- 
hearted that I have given him my daugh- 
ter, with whom ho is madly in love. I 
only ask you to keep the secret for a few 
days, after which you will have the right 
to Jiope to see yourself a great-grandfather 
and I a grandfather. George will explain 
matters to you. Farewell.” And, leaving 
George with the old man, Lebrcnn directed 
his steps toward the house of M. do Ploucr- 
nel, colonel of dragoons, who was expect- 
ing the merchant that morning to make 
arrangements with him for the purchase of 
a largo supply of ready-made linen. 


CHAPTER IV. 

Gontran Neroweg, the Count de Plouer- 
ncl, occupied a charming little house in 
the Rue do Paradis-Poisaoniere, built by 
his grandfather. From tlie somewhat 
studied elegance of this habitation, it was 
easy to see that it must have been built in 
the last century, in the time of the Regeacy. 

M. do Plouorncl was breakfasting alone 
with an extremely pretty girl, a witty and 
merry brunette of about twenty, Avho had 
been nicknamed Pradelinc, from her habit, 
in the suppers of which she was the life 
and soul, and often the queen, of improvis- 
ing songs on all sorts of subjects, which 
doubtless would not have been acknowl- 


edged by the celebrated improvisatrice 
whoso name she bore, but which were not 
lacking in point or gayety. M. do Plouer- 
nel, having heard of Pradeline, had invited 
her to sup with him and some friends the 
evening before. After the supper, which 
was prolonged till three o’clock in the 
morning, the offer of hospitality was a mat- 
ter of course, which was naturally followed 
by breakfast. The two companions were 
seated in a little Louis XV. boudoir, ad- 
joining the alcove, a bright fire was burn- 
ing in an exquisitely sculptured chimney- 

E ioce, thick curtains of pale blue damask, 
rocaded with roses, softened the light of 
day, and the air was heavy with the fra- 
grance of the flowers that filled the great 
porcelain vases. The Avines Avere fine and 
the dishes exquisite. Pradeline and M. de 
Plouernel did full justice to them. 

TJie colonel was a man pf about thirty- 
eight, tall, slender and Avell made; his 
features, a little haggard, but possessing a 
sort of haughty beauty, presented the type 
of the Germanic or Frankish race — the 
characteristic traits of which are so often 
described by Tacitus and Caesar — with light 
brown hair, red moustache, clear gray 
eyes, and hooked nose. M. de Plouernel, 
wrapped in a magnificent dressing-gown, 
appeared as merry as his companion. 
“Come, Pradeline,” said he, pouring out 
for her a bumper of old Burgundy, “ to the 
health of your lover !” 

“ What folly ! as though I had a lover !” 
“ You are right. To the health of your 
lovers !” 

“ You are not jealous, then, my dear ?” 

“ And you ?” 

At this question, Pradeline slowly drain- 
ed her glass, then clinking it against her 
knife-blade, she answered the Colonel by 
improvising these lines to the popular air 
of “ La Rifla 

“ Here’s to fidelity ! 

I laugh at it merrily 
When a lover pleases me, 

Ah ! then we soon shall see. 

La rifla, fla, fla.” 

“ Bravo ! my dear !” cried the colonel, 
laughing lieartily ; and, joining in the 
chorus with Pradeline, he sang, clinking 
his glass, 

“ When a lover pleases me. 

Ah ! then we soon shall see. 

La rifla, fla, fla.” 

“ But since you are not jealous, my 
dear,” resumed he, after this chorus, “ give 
me your advice ?” 

“ What?” 

“A friendly counsel; I am in love, 
madly in love.” 

“ Bah !” 

“ It is true, nevertheless ; I am madly in 


16 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


love with a shop-girl; that is to say, her 
father and mother keep a shop.’^ 

« Well.” 

“ You must know the manners and cus- 
toms of this sort of people; what means 
would you advise me to employ to suc- 
ceed ?” 

“ Make yourself beloved.” 

“That would take too long. When I 
take a violent fancy, it is impossible for mo 
to wait.” 

“ Really ! It is surprising, my dear, how 
you interest me. But let us see. This 
shop-girl — in the first place, is she very 
poor? is she very wretched? is she very 
hungry ?” 

“ Is she very hungry ? What the deuce 
Jo you mean ?” 

“ Colonel, I don’t deny your agreeable 
qualities; you are handsome, witty, charm- 
ing, fiiscinatlng, adorable, and delight- 
ful—” 

“ You are sarcastic !” 

“ Ah ! as if I dared ! You are delightful, 
therefore; but for the poor girl to appre- 
ciate you, she must bo dyiyg of hunger. 
You have no idea how hunger helps to 
show off your agreeable qualities.” And 
Pradelino improvised anew, not this time 
merrily, but with a sort of bitterness, slack- 
ening the measure of her favorite air until 
it seemed almost melancholy : 

“ Thou’rt dying of hunger 
And freezing witli cold. 

Oh ! conju to ray direlling 
And thou wile hnd gold. 

La rifla, Ba, fla.” 

“ The deuce ! Your song is anything but 
merry this time,” said M. do Plouernel, 
struck by the melancholy tone of the young 
girl, who, however, soon recovered her 
usual carelessness and gayety. “ I under- 
stand the allusion,” resumed the Count, 
“ but my pretty shop-girl does not want for 
bread.” 

“ Then is she coquettish? does she like 
dress, jewels, and plays? These are cap- 
ital means of ruining a poor girl.” 

“ She must naturally like all these ; but 
she has a father and mother, therefore 
must bo closely watched. I also have an 
idea — ” 

“ Ah ! I thought so. And what is it ?” 

“ To make largo purchases of these 
people, and even to lend them money in 
case of need, for these small tradesmen are 
always hard pressed.” 

“So that you think that they will sell 
their daughter for ready money ?” 

“No, but I hope at least that they will 
shut their eyes; then I can daszdo the little 
girl with gifts, and soon accomplish my 
purpose. Eh! what do you think of it?” 

“ Why, 1 don't know what to say,” re- 
plied Pradeline, putting on an innocent air. 
“If men sell their daughters in this way 


in your fashionable world, perhaps it is 
done also among humble people. I don’t 
believe it, however; they are too vulgar, 
too ungeutecl for such traffic.” 

“ My dear,” said M. de Plouernel, 
haughtily, “ do you know that you are 
taking great liberties*?” 

At this reproach, the young girl burst 
into a fit of laughter, followed %• a fresh 
improvisation, merrily sung : 

“ Behold this great seignior, 

S > prou I of his honor ! 

For this chivalrous lord 
A rascal’s ihe word. 

La rida, fla, fla.” 

With these words, Pradeline rose, took a 
cigar from the mantel, lighted it — still 
murmuring her chorus — and throwing her- 
self into an easy-chair, puffed a column of 
blueish smoke toward the ceiling. M. de 
Plouernel, forgetting his momentary spite, 
could not help laughing at the young girl’s 
originality. “Come,” said he, “talk se- 
riously ; it is not singing that >I need, but 
advice.” 

“ In the first place, I must know in wh&t 
neighborhood your charmer lives,” returned 
Pradeline, in a dogmatic tone, throwing 
herself back in her chair ; “ the knowledge 
of the neighborhood is very important. 
What can be done in one neighborhood can- 
not bo done in another.” 

“Well reasoned, my dear; the influence 
of the neighborhood on the virtue of women 
is great. I can tell you thus much, that 
my adored shop-girl lives in the Rue St. 
Denis.” 

At these words, Pradeline, who till then 
had been indolently reclining in her easy- 
chair, puffing the smoke of her cigar in 
fantastic shapes, started, and sprang up so 
suddenly that M. de Plouernel, looking at 
her \vith surprise, cried, “ What is the mat- 
ter ?” 

“ Why,” she replied, recovering her cool- 
ness, and w’ringing her hand with an ex- 
pression of pain, “ in fact I have burned 
myself horribly with this cigar; but it is 
nothing. You w'^ere saying that your 
charmer lives in the Rue St. Denis — that is 
something, but not enough.” 

“ At all events, my dear, you will know 
no more.” 

“This confounded cigar!” exclaimed the 

oung girl, wringing her hand anew, “it 

urns, oh ! how it burns !” 

“ Will you have some cold water?” 

“No, it will pass away. So your shop- 
girl lives in the Rue St. Denis. But wait 
a moment, is it at the upper or the lower 
end of the street ? for there is a vast differ- 
ence between them, as is proved by the 
prices at the shops. Now, the generosity 
must be in proportion to the rate of the 
rent ; isn’t that reasonable ?” 

“ Very reasonable; I will tell you, then, 


THE DRAGOON’S HELMET, &c. 


17 


that my charmer lives uot far from the 
Porte St. Deni 8.^’ 

“ That is all I need to know in order to 
give my advice,’^ replied Pradeline, in a 
tone which she vainly strove to render gay; 
but a more observing man than M. de 
Plouerncd would have remarked a vague 
anxiety in the expression of her face. 

“Well, let ns see; what do you advise 
me to do asked he. 

“In the first place, you must Some 

one is knocking.*’ 

“ Do you think so ?” 

“ I am sure of it. There, don’t you 
hear vlnother knock was heard. 

“ Come in !” cried the Count. 

A servant appeared and said, with an air 
of embarrassment, “ Sir, Ilis Eminence is 
here.” 

“ My uncle !” exclaimed the Count, start- 
ing up in surprise. 

“ Yes, sir, the Cardinal has just returned 
from a journey, and — ” 

“ A cardinal !” cried Pradeline, interrupt- 
ing the servant by a burst of laughter, for 
she had already forgotten her anxiety ; “ a 
cardinal ! that’s jolly ; it is what we don’t 
see every day at the Mabille or Valentino. 
A cardinal ! I never saw one, now I will 
feast my eyes !” and she began to imprdvise 
to her favorite air, 

“ The merry queen bacchanal, 

Seeing .‘i cardinal, 

Cried, Nuw the chance 
To show him a dance. 

La riBa, Ba, fla.” 

With these words, the reckless girl, rais- 
ing the skirt of her dress, began waltzing 
around the room, repeating her song, while 
the servant stood motionless at the half-open 
door, with great difficulty preserving bis 
gravity, and M. de Plouernel, incensed at 
the young girl’s boldness, cried, “ Enough of 
this folly ! bo quiet ; it is indecent !” 

Meanwhile the Cardinal de Plouernel, 
who had just been announced, tired of wait- 
ing in his nephew’s ante-room, and not ex- 
pecting to find himself in such profane 
company, had followed close upon the serv- 
ant, and entered just as Pradeline, balanc- 
ing on one toe, sang, 

‘‘ Now is the chan^’e 
To show him a dance.” 

At the sight of the cardinal, M. de Plouer- 
ncl ran to the door, and, while embracing 
his uncle, pushed him back gently into the 
next room. The servant, like a well-trained 
domestic, discreetly shut the door of the 
boudoir on his master, and drew the bolt. 


CHAPTER V. 

The Cardinal de Plouernel was a man of 
sixty-five, tall, thin and bony, lie presented 


j the same type of face as his nephew, allow- 
ance being made for the difference of age. 
' Ilis long neck, his bald crown, his large 
. hooked nose, and his round and piercing 
I eyes, set wide apart, gave his features, when 
analyzed and separated from the lofty in- 
tellect wliich seemed to animate them, a 
strange analogy to the physiognomy of the 
vulture. In short, this priest, draped in the 
crimson robes of the princes of the church, 
must have presented a majestic ai)pearance. 
On his visit to his nephew, he was simply 
dressed in a long black frock-coat, buttouo<l 
closely to the chin. 

“Eorgivo me, my dear uncle,” said the 
colonel, smiling. “ Not knowing of your 
return, I was not expecting your kind and 
early visit, and — ” 

The cardinal was not a man to bo as- 
tonished at finding a colonel of dragoons in 
such company ; ho only said, in his quick, 
decided tone, “ 1 am in haste, let us talk of 
business. I have just come from a long 
tour through France. We are on the brink 
of a revolution.” 

“ What do you say?” cried the colonel, 
in an incredulous tone. “Do you really 
think so ?” 

“ I believe that it is close upon us.” 

“But, uncle — ’ 

“ Have you funds at your command ? If 
not, I can accommodate you.” 

“ Funds ! for what ?” 

“ To convert them into gold or bills of 
exchange on London; these would be more 
convenient for your journey.” 

“ What journey ?” 

“ Tliat which you will take with me. We 
shall set out to-night.” 

“ Set out — to-night!” 

“ Would you rather serve ulu r a repub- 
lic?” 

“ A republic!” exclaimed M. de Plouernel, 
as if in a dream; “what republic ?” 

“ That which will shortly bo proclaimed 
hero at Paris, after the downfall of Louis 
Philippe.” 

“ The downfall of Loui.^ Philippe ! A 
republic, in France, and shortly !” 

“Y’es, the French Republic, one and in- 
divisible, pi’oclaimed for our benefit. Only 
we mu.st have the patience to wait.” And 
the cardinal smiled mysteriously, as he in- 
haled a pinch of snuff. 

The count looked at him with amazement. 
“ What, uncle,” ho at length resumed, “ are 
you in earnest ?” 

“ Ah ! my poor Gontran, are you deaf and 
blind ?” replied the cardinal, shrugging his 
shoulders. “ YVhat do you think of the rev- 
olutionary banquets that have been going 
on in France for the last three months ?” 

“Ah! uncle,” said the count, laughing, 
“ do you believe those swillers of thin 
wine, those eaters of veal at twenty cents a 
head, capable of — ” 


18 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


“These simpletons — not that I blame 
them for it, by any means — have turned the 
heads of the* fools that listened to them. 
There is nothing so senseless as gunpowder, 
but that does not hinder it from exploding. 
Well, these banqueters have been playing 
with powder ; the mine is about to explode, 
and blow up the throne of the house of Or- 
leans.’’ 

“ There is no real danger, uncle. There 
are fifty thousand troops here ; if the rab- 
ble stirs, it will be cut to pieces. There is 
BO little uneasiness about the state of Paris, 
that, despite the disturbances of yesterday, 
the troops are not even kept in the bar- 
racks.” 

“ Is that so ? Well, so much the better,” 
returned the cardinal, rubbing his hands. 
“If it is struck with madness, this house of 
Orleans will the sooner give way to a re- 
public, and our turn will the more speedily 
come.” Hero his Eminence was interrupt- 
ed by a couple of gentle knocks on the door 
opening into the boudoir; this sound was 
quickly followed bv the words, sung to the 
air of La rifla, 

“ Before quitting tbisdvelling, 

Pray give me your blessing : 

Absolution, 

Benediction. 

La rifla, fia, fla.” 

“ 0 uncle !” cried the colonel, angrily, 
“pray treat this silly girl’s insolence with 
the contempt that it deserves.” And, rising, 
he took a shawl and hat from the sofa, and, 
ringing furiously, threw them at the serv- 
ant, sayiug, “ Give her these things, and 
send her away directly.” Then, turning to 
the cardinal, who stood unmoved, opening 
his snufl-box, “ Indeed,” said he, “I am ex- 
tremely annoyed; but these little fools re- 
spect no one.” 

“The little girl is very pretty,” replied 
the cardinal, taking a pinch of suufl'. “ In 
the fifteenth century, wo should have roasted 
her like a Jewess lor her impertinence. But 
patience. Ah ! never, never, my boy, have 
we had such fair prospects !” 

“ Such fair prospects if the house of Or- 
leans is expelled and the republic proclaim- 
ed I-V 

“One of two things must happen,” re- 
turned the cardin al, shrugging his shoulders ; 
“ either tho republic of these ragamufiius 
will be anarchy, dictatorship, emigration, 
pillage, assignats, tho guillotine and a Euro- 
pean war, which will last for six months, 
after which our glorious Henri V. will be 
brought back by the Holy Alliance, or 
else, on tho contrary, their republic will be 
benign, stupid, legal, and moderate, with 
universal suilVago as its basis.” 

“ And in tins case, uncle ?” 

“ In this case, it will take longer, but we 
shall lose nothing by waiting. By using 
our influence with the large proprietors and 


acting through the lower clergy on the 
peasants, wo shall become masters of the 
elections, we shall have the majority in the 
legislature, we shall throw obstacles in the 
way of every measure that would tend to 
make this horrible and revolutionary state 
of affairs not only beloved, but tolerated, 
wo shall sow distrust and fear in the minds 
of all, and ere long we shall bring about 
destruction of credit, general ruin, universal 
disaster, and a chorus of maledictions 
against this infamous republic which will 
die a natural death after a trial which will 
disgust tho people with it forever. Then 
we shall appear on the scene; and tho 
famished masses and terrified citizens, 
throwing themselves at our feet, will en- 
treat us with clasped hands to restore them 
Henri V., tho only salvation of France. 
Now comes the time for making our condi- 
tions, which will be these: royalty as it 
was before 1789 at least — that is to say, no 
insolentand turbulent chamber of the Third 
Estate, as powerful as tho King himself, 
since it has him in its power, by means of 
the taxes, an ignoble means of constraint ; 
no bastard sj-stem, but all or nothing, and 
we are determined to have all — namely, a 
king, by absolute and divine right, support- 
ed by an all-powerful clergy, a stroug ari.s- 
tocracy, and a pitiless army — a liundred 
thousand or two hundred thousand foreign 
troops if necessary; the Holy Alliance 
will lend them to us. Tho wretchedness 
will bo so horrible, the fear so intense, and 
the despondency so great, that our condi- 
tions will no sooner be offered tlian accept- 
ed. Then wo shall speedily take prompt 
and terrible measures which alone can be 
effectual ; courts of high commission, an in- 
vestigation into tho crimes of sacrilege and 
high treason committed since 1830, with 
judgmeut and execution within twenty-four 
hours, in order to crush out the venom of 
the impious revolutionists, a reign of 
terror, a St. Bartholomew if necessary. 
Franco will not die of it; on the contrary, 
she is too full-blooded and nefeds to be bled 
freely from time to time. Next, public in- 
struction must be given to the Jesuits — 
they alone can humble the people; then the 
rampart of centralization must bo broken 
down — this it is which gives vigor to the 
revolutionary spirit. The provinces must 
be isolated and converted into petty centers, 
where we alone shall rule through tho 
clergy or our large estates; and tho inter- 
course of the people with each other must 
bo restricted as much as possible. It is not 
for our interest to encourage friendly in- 
tercourse among the people; to divide them, 
we must stir up rivalries, jealousies, and 
old local feuds in case of need. In this 
connection, a spice of civil war would be a 
good expedient, as a germ of implacable an- 
imosity.” Then, taking a pinch of snuff. 


THE DKAGOOX’S HELMET, <tc. 


the cardinal added, “ Men that hate each 
other never conspire.’’ 

The pitiless logic of the cardinal was re-, 
pugnant to M. de Plouernel. Despite his 
aristocratic infatuation and prejudices, ho 
was very well contented with the exist- 
ing state of things j ho would have doubt- 
less preferred the reign of the legitimate 
kings, but he did not refleat that to obtain 
the end we must take the means, and that a 
complete and absolute restoration, to be 
lasting in the eyes of its partisans, could 
only be effected and maintained by the ter- 
rible measures which his uncle had just 
set forth so complacently. lie replied, 
therefore, with a smile, “ But reflect, my 
dear uncle; to isolate the different parts of 
the country from each other in our day is 
impossible ; look at the highways and the 
railroads !” 

“ Railroads !” exclaimed the cardinal, 
angrily, “ an invention of the devil, only fit 
to carry the revolutionary pestilence from 
one end of Europe to the other! Our holy 
father will not have a railroad in his 
states, and he is right. It is unheard-of 
blindness in the monarchs of the Holy Al- 
liance to let themselves be persuaded to 
sanction this diabolical invention, which 
may cost them dear. How did our ances- 
tors set to work, at the time of the Conquest, 
to tame and subjugate tliose wicked Gauls, 
our vassals by birth and race, who so often 
rebelled against us ? They penned them 
up on their estates, forbidding them to cross 
their bounds under penalty of death. Thus 
chained to the globe, thus isolated and 
brutalized, the race was more tractable. It 
is to this that wo must come.” 

“ But, once more, uncle, you surely would 
not destroy the highways and railroads?” 

“Why not? Did not our ancestors, the 
Franks, in pursuance of a sagacious policy, 
destroy these great means of communica- 
tion established in Gaul by those pagans, 
the Romans? Would it not be an easy 
matter to incite the ignorant wretches who 
have been thrown out of employ meut by this 
infernal invention to tear up the railroads ? 
Accursed be these arrogant monuments of 
the pride of Satan ! By the blood of my 
race ! if man is not arrested in his sacri- 
legious inventions, he will end by trans- 
forming this vale of tears into an earthly 
paradise, as if he were not condemned 
by original sin to suffer through all eter- 
nity.” 

“ In heaven’s name, hear me a moment,” 
cried the colonel ; “ I, for my part, am not 
anxious to so scrupulously fulfill my des- 
tiny.” 

“ Foolish child !” said the cardinal, tak- 
ing a pinch of snuff; “ for the great majori- 
ty of the race of Adam to suffer and have a 
meritorious consciousness of their suffering, 
must there not always be a considerable 


19 

minority of happy men before their eyes in 
this world ?” 

“ I understand; by wey of contrast, you 
would say.” 

“ Necessarily. Wo perceive the depth of 
the valleys only by the height of the mount- 
ains. But enough of philosophizing. You 
know that I am a man of quick and sure 
perception ; the state of affairs is just as I 
tell you. I repeat, follow my example, 
turn all your disposable property into gold 
or bills on London, send in your resignation 
to-day, and leave with me to-morrow. The 
blindness of these men is such that they fear 
nothing; you acknowledge this yourself. 
Scarcely any military prec.autions have 
been taken ; you can therefore quit your 
regiment and accompany me without the 
least imputation on your honor as a sol- 
dier.” 

“ I am a soldier, and I intend to do my 
duty as such to the end.” 

“ But, obstinate bo)', if you are killed, 
our. house falls from the sword to the dis- 
taff.” 

“ I have promised you, my dear uncle, to 
marry when I am forty.” 

“ But reflect! this street warfare is hor- 
rible — to die in a gutter, massacred by a 
ragged mob !” 

“ I shall have the satisfaction at least of 
putting a few of them to the sword, and if I 
fall,” added the colonel, laughing, “you 
can easily find some little illegitimate 
Plouernel of mine whom you can adopt, 
and who will continue our name ; such 
children often bring happiness to great 
families.” 

“Triple fool ! thus to stake your life just 
when our future is at its brightest — when, 
after being conquered, trampled upon, and 
derided by the sons of those who were our 
vassals and serfs for fourteen centuries, wo 
are about to efface fifty years of shame at 
one blow — when, taught by experience and 
served by circumstances, wo are about to 
become more powerful than before 1789 ! 
You inspire me with pity. You are right — 
races degenerate,” cried the intractable old 
man, rising. “ Our cause would bo desper- 
ate if all its friends were like you.” 

A knock was heard. The servant enter- 
ed and said to M. de Plouernel, “ Sir, the 
linen-draper from the Rue St. Denis is 
waiting in the ante-room.” 

“ Take him into the picture-gallery,” an- 
swered the count; “I will be there in a 
moment.” The servant went out. “ For 
heaven’s sake, my dear uncle,” exclaimed 
IM. do Plouernel,* seeing the cardinal take 
his hat abruptly and move toward the door, 
“ do not leave me in anger.” 

“ I am not angry, but humiliated, for you 
bear our name.” 

“Wait a moment, my dear uncle; when 
you are calmer, you will sec — ” 


20 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


“ Will you go to England with me ? yes 
or no.’^ 

“ Impossible.” 

“ Then go to the devil !” cried the cardi- 
nal, very unclcrically, as he rushed from 
the room furiously and slammed the door 
after him. 

Lebrenn had been conducted, by the 
count’s orders, into a richly furnished room, 
the walls of which were hung with numer- 
ous family portraits. Some wore the cuirass 
of knights, the red cloak and white cross of 
Templars, the doublet of noblemen, the 
ermine of peers of France, or bore the staff 
of marshals, and d, few the purple of the 
princes of the church. Among the women, 
many wore the monastic habit or the court 
costume • but, whether each painter had 
scrupulously copied nature or liad flattered 
the wishes of a family that was anxious to 
sliow an unbroken ancestry, the generic 
typo of these difierent faces was found in 
all, wliether handsome or ugly ; in' all, the 
wide space between the eyes and the hooked 
noso called to mind a bird of prey. The 
Plouerncl arms and the name of the origi- 
nal Avere painted in the corner of almost all 
the ancient portraits. For instance, there 
might have been read, Gonthraran IX., 
Sieur do Plouerncl; Ilildeborta, Lady de 
Plouerncl ; Merofleda, Abbess of Moriadek 
in Plouernel, etc. The sight of these fami- 
ly portraits seemed to inspire Lebrenn 
with a strange mixture of curiosity, bitter- 
ness and reproach, more sad than rancorous ; 
ho went from one to another, as if they 
awakened a thousand memories in him, and 
gazed pensively at the motionless figures, as 
muto as spectres. Several of these person- 
ages seemed especially to excite his atten- 
tion. One, evidently painted from traditions 
and recollections handed down to a later 
date than that of the picture, A.D. 497, 
was, without doubt, the founder of this an- 
cient bouse ; in the corner was wu-itten the 
name of Gonthramn Neroweg. This per- 
- son ago was a man of colossal stature. Ills 
hair, of a bright copper red,* was turned 
back in the Chinese fashion and fastened bv 
means of a gold ring at the top of his hea<], 
from which it fell over his shoulders like a 
flowing mane, llis cheeks and chin Avere 
shaved, but his long moustaches, of the same 
color as his hair, fell to his breast, which 
Avas tattooed blue and half covered by a 
variegated red and yelloAv mantle or plaid. 
It Avas impossible to conceiA’o of a more 
savage and barbarous countenance than that 
of this first NeroAveg. At its sight, painful 
thoughts seemed to agitate the linen-draper, 
for after gazing long at the portrait, he 
could not refrain from shaking his fist at it, 
an involuntary and puerile action of Avhich 

* Aa will be seen hereafter, the l-'racka so; Iced their 
hair with a mixture of grease aud lime in orJ<.r to ren- 
der it of a bright red, the favorite color at that time. 


he instantly seemed ashamed. The second 
portrait, Avhich seemed to make an equally 
vivid impression on him, I’epresented a 
woman dressed in the monastic costume; 
this picture Avas dated A.D. 759, and bore 
the name of Merofleda, Abbess of Moriadek 
in Plouerncl. The peculiarity of tliis poi’- 
trait Avas that the abbess held in one hand 
an abbatical cross, and in the other a bloody 
sword, doubtless to indicate that tliis sword 
had not ahvays remained in the scabbard. 
This AAmman Avas very beautiful, bat her 
beauty was of a haughty, sinister and violent 
character ; her features, worn by excesses 
and shrouded by long black and Avhite vails, 
her large gray eyes flashing from under 
their bushy, red brows, her blood-red lips, 
Avith their at once cruel and sensual expres- 
sion, and, lastly, the cross and bloody SAVord 
in the hands of an abbess, formed a strange 
and almost appalling whole. Lebrenn 
gazed at the picture wdth mingled disgiist 
and abhorrence, and murmured in a Ioav 
tone, “ 0 Merofleda ! noble abbess, conse- 
crated by the devil, Messalina and Frede- 
gonda Avere virgins compared with thee, 
the Marshal de Retz a lamb, and liis infam- 
ous cloister a holy tabernacle by the side 
of thy cloister of demons!” lie added 
Avith a deep sigh, as he raised his eyes to 
heaven as if in pity, “ Poor Septimine la 
Coliborte ! and tnou, unhappy Rroute 
Saule !”* And, sadly averting his gaze, he 
stood for a moment in thought. On raising 
his eyes, they rested on another portrait 
dated A.D. 1237, representing a Avarrior 
Avith shaven head and long, red beard, arm- 
ed cap-a-pie, and Avearing on his shoulder 
tho red cloak and white cross of tho Cru- 
saders. “ Ah ! tho Red Knight,”' exclaimed 
tho linen-draper Avith a gesture of aversion, 
putting his hand before his eyes as if to 
shut out a frightful vision. His features 
soon relaxed, however ; he breathed a sigh 
of relief, as if pleasant thoughts had suc- 
ceeded his painful emotions, as ho gazed 
Avith a kindly, almost aflectionato air at a 
portrait dated A.D. 1403, aud bearing tlie 
name of Gonthramn XIL, Sieur do Plouer- 
ncl. This picture represented a young man 
of thirty at most, dressed iu a black velvet 
doublet, and Avearing about his neck the 
golden collar of tho Oi-'ler of St. Michael. 
It would have been impossible to conceive 
of a gentler or more sympathetic counten- 
ance. 'J ho look and the half-smile that 
lurked on tho lips of this personage Avore 
an expression of touching melancholy. 
“Ah!” said Lebreuu, “ tlio sight of this 
Plouernel rests, tranquillizes, aud consoles 
me. Thank God ! ho is not the only one that 
has belied the proverbial Avickedness of his 
race.” Then, after a moment’s silence, he 

* The story of the AbbesA Merollela, the Marshal de 
Re*z, Septimine la Coliberte, Uroute Saule, etc., etc., 
will be found in the sequel of the work. 


THE DRAGOON’S HELMET, <fec. 21 


added with a sigh, “ Dear little Ghiselle de 
la Paonni^ro ! thy life was short, but Avhat a 
golden dream was this existence! And 
Avhy could not thy sisters, Alison la Ma- 
^onne and Marotte la Ilaubergicre have 
had — Ilis reflections were interrupted 
by the entrance of M. do Plouernel. 


CHAPTER VI. 

The linen-draper was so much absorbed 
in his reflections, that ho started, as if just 
waking, when !M. de Plouernel entered the 
room. Despite liis self-command, Lobrenn 
could not help betraying some emotion on 
finding himself face to face with a descend- 
ant of this ancient family. Wo must pre- 
mise that ho had been informed by Jeanike 
of. the frequent appearance of the colonel 
before his window; but, far from appear- 
ing anxious or angry, ho assumed an air of 
good-natured embarrassment, which IM. de 
Plouernel ascribed to the respectful defer- 
ence ■which ho must naturally inspire in a 
shop-keeper of the Hue St. Denis. Address- 
ing himself to the tradesman, therefore, 
with an air of patronizing familiarity, the 
count motioned to a chair, and taking 
another himself, said, “ Don’t stand, my 
dear sir; sit dbwn, I beg you.” 

“Ah! ^ir,” answered Lebrenn, with an 
awkward bow, “ you do me too much 
honor.” 

“Como, come, no ceremonj-, my dear 
sir,” returned the count, adding, in a ques- 
tioning tone, “ My dear Mr. Lebrenn, 

I believe.” 

“ Lebrenn, at your service,” replied the 
tradesTnan, bowing. 

“ Well, then, yesterday, I had the pleas- 
ure of seeing your excellent wife, Madame 
Lebrenn, and of speaking to her about a 
largo purchase of linen which I wish to 
make for my regiment.” 

“Wo are very glad, sir, that you have 
honored our humble shop with your cus- 
tom. I have come to learn how many 
yards of linen you need, and what quality 
you would like. Hero are some samples,” 
added he, feeling with a business-like air 
in the pocket of his coat. “ If you will 
make a selection, I will tell you the price, 
the lowest price, the very lowest price, 
sir.” 

“ It is unnecessary, my dear Lebrenn; I 
will toll you what I want in two words. I 
have four hundred and fifty dragoons, for 
whom I require a supply cf four hundred 
and fifty shirts, of good quality; you will 
see to tho making up, and -whatever price 
you ask, 1 shall pay willingly ; for I am 

* Tbs story cf GhiseUo la I’aonDiere, Al.son la Jla- 
^ODDC, and Marotte la Ilaubergicre, will be fouud ia the 
sequel of the work. 


convinced, my dear Lebrenn, that you are 
a thoroughly honest dealer.” 

“Ah.! sir.” 

“ Tho prince of linen-drapers.” 

“Sir! sir! you cover me with confusion; 
1 do not deserve all this praise.” 

“lou do not deserve it! Ah! my dear 
Lebrenn, you deserve much more, on the 
contrary.” 

“I will not contradict you. How soon 
do you want tho linen?” asked the linen- 
draper, rising. “ If you are in haste, the 
making will be a little dearer.” 

“ First, do me tho pleasure of sitting 
down again, my good man ; don’t go eff in 
this way, like a flash. How do you know 
but what I have other orders to give 
you ?” 

“ To obey you, I sit down again, sir. 
How soon do you want this linen ?” 

“ By the end of March.” 

“ Then, sir, four hundred and fifty shirts 
of tho best quality will cost seven francs 
apiece.” 

“ Upon my word ! that is very cheap, 
my dear Lebrenn ; and this is a compli- 
ment that buyers don’t often pay to dealers, 
oh ?” 

“ Not very often, it is true, sir. But you 
Spoke of other orders — ” 

“ Tho deuce ! Sir, you lose no time ; you 
think of nothing but your business.” 

“ Eh ! sir ; it is a shopkeeper’s trade to 
sell.” 

“ And are you selling much just now ?” 

“ Hem ! so so, so so.” 

“What! only so so! That’s bad, my 
dear Lobrenn; it must trouble you, for I 
suppose you are tho father of a family ?” 

“ Vou are very good, sir. I have a 
son.” 

“ And are you bringing him up to take 
your place in tho business ?” 

“ Yes, sir, he is at tho Central Commer- 
cial School.” 

“ At his age — tho fine fellow ! And you 
have no other children ?” 

“ Begging pardon for contradicting you, 
I have i\ daughter also.” 

“A daughter! my dear Lobrenn. If she 
resembles her mother, she must bo charm- 
ing.” 

“ Ah ! she is well grown and good-look- 
ing.” 

“ You must be very proud of her. Come, 
confess it.” 

“ Zounds ! I don’t deny it ! I don’t 
deny it !” 

“ Now I think of it,” said tho count, “ I 
should like to give a surprise to good 
Madame Lobrenn.” 

“ Sir, she is your humble servant.” 

“ Do you know that I have an idea of 
shortly giving an entertainment in the 
great courtyard cf my quarters, in which 
my dragoons will perform all sorts of 


22 


THE MYSTERIES OE THE PEOPLE. 


equestrian feats; noAv, you must promise 
mo to come some Sunday with your excel- 
lent wife to sec the rehearsal, and to par- 
take, without ceremony,, of a sligSt colla- 
tion afterward.'^ 

“Ah! sir, you do us too much honor; 
1 am covered with confusion.^’ 

“ Como 1 you are jesting, my dear sir- 
Is it agreed 

“ May I bring my boy 

“ Certainly.’^ 

“ And my daughter also 

“ How can you ask me such a question, 
my dear sir ?” 

“Heally, sir, you would not think it 
strange if I brought my daughter?” 

“By no means. By the way, an idea 
strikes me. You have heard of the ancient 
tournaments ?” 

“ Tournaments ?” 

“ Yes, in the days of chivalry.” 

“ Excuse me, sir ; humble folks like us 
know little of such things.” 

“ Well, then, my dear Lebrenn, in the 
days of chivalry it was the custom to hold 
tournaments, in which several, of my an- 
cestors fought, whose portraits you see 
there.” 

“Oh!” said the tradesman, feigning sur- 
prise, and following the colonel’s glance, 
“ are those gentlemen your ancestors ? I 
thought there was a family likeness.” 

“ 1)0 you see it ?” 

“ Yes, sir, pardon the liberty.” 

“ No excuses are needed. For heaven’s 
sake! my dear sir, drop this formality. I 
was telling you that in these tournaments 
there was what was called the Queen of 
Beauty, who distributed the prizes among 
the victors. Well, your charming daughter 
shall bo the Queen of Beauty in my tourna- 
ment; she is in every respect worthy of 
it.” 

“ Ah ! sir, that would be too much 
honor. And then, don’t you think, for a 
young girl to be exposed in this way to the 
gaze of your dragoons, would bo a little — 
pardon the liberty — a little — what shall I 
say ?” 

“Away with these scruples, my dear 
Lebrenn. The noblest ladies were formerly 
queens of beauty in the tournament, and 
sometimes even gave a kiss to the con- 
queror.” 

“ 1 understand — they were accustomed to 
it, whilou my daughter, you see — well, she 
is only eighteen, and has been brought up 
as a shop-keeper’s daughter.” 

“ Bo easy, I never intended for an instant 
that your charming daughter should em- 
braco the victor.” 

“Thank you; and if you would conde- 
scend to excuse my daughter from embrac- 
ing—” 

“ Of course, my dear sir — what do you 
mean ? I am too happy to see that you 


have accepted my invitation for yourself 
and your charming family.” 

“ Ah ! sir, the honor is all on our side.” 

“ Not at all, it is on mine.” 

“ Zounds ! sir, you are too good. I see 
clearly the honor that you intend to do us.” 

“ What do you mean, my dear fellow ? 
I don’t quite understand you. I found you 
so honest about your linen, that I said to 
myself directly, ‘ This Lebrenn must be an 
excellent man; I should be glad to give 
him a pleasure, and even to oblige him if I 
could.’ ” 

“ Ah ! sir, I am confused by your good- 
ness.” 

“By the way, you said just now that 
business was dull ; let me pay for the linen 
in advance.” 

“ Nay, nay, sir ; it is not necessary.” 

“You are in want of mon^ — speak 
frankly ; the sum is a large one; I will give 
you a check on my banker.” 

“ I assure you, sir, that I do not want the 
money in advance.” 

“ Times are so hard, however.” 

“ They are very hard, it is true, sir; we 
must hope for better ones.” 

Ah ! my dear Lebrenn,” said the count, 
pointing to the pictures on the walls, “ when 
those brave lords lived — those were the 
good old times !” 

“ Really, sir ?” • 

“And who knows but they may return.” 

“ Indeed ; do you think so ?” 

“ Some other day wo will talk politics ; 
for you talk politics, perhaps ?” 

“ I could not take such a liberty, sir, a 
shop-keeper like me !” 

“ Ah ! ni}' dear fellow, you are a man of 
the good old times. You are right, indeed, 
in not talking politics ; it is this foolish 
mania that is ruining everything. In the 
good old times of which 1 tell you, nobody 
reasoned ; the king, the clergy, and the 
nobles commanded, and every one obeyed 
without saying a word.” 

“ Zounds ! that was very convenient.” 

“ Yes, indeed.” 

“If 1 understand you rightly, the king, 
priests, and nobles said to the people, ‘ Do 
this !’ and they did it ?” 

“ Just so.” 

“ ‘ Pay this,’ and they paid it ?” 

“ Exactly.” 

“ ‘ Go there,’ and they went ?” 

“ Why, yes.” 

“ In short, it was just like a drill — Right ! 
left! march! halt! The people had not 
the trouble of wishing for themselves ; the 
king, nobles, and clergy took this burden 
on themselves ; and now, all this, alas ! is 
changed.” 

“ Happily, wo must despair of nothing, 
my good Lelarenn.” 

“ May Go»l hear you !” said the trades- 
man, rising andbowiug. “Your servant, sir.” 


the DRAGOON’S IIELMKT, Ac. 


23 


“ Well, then, on Sunday, 1 shall see you 
at the tournament with your family, my 
dear fellow ; it is agreed V 

“ Of course, sir, of course, my daughter 
will not miss the entertainment, since she 
is to bo the Queen of — of — 

“ Beauty, my dear fellow. It was not I 
that assigned her the part, but Nature.” 

“ Ah ! sir, what you say is so flattering to 
my daughter that, if you will permit me, I 
will tell her of it.” 

“ Certainly, my dear sir, I not only per- 
mit but beg j'ou to do so; still more, I 
will go without ceremony to invite good 
Madame Lebrenn and her daughter in 
person.” 

“ Ah ! sir, the poor women will bo so 
much flattered with the honor you do 
them ! I say nothing of myself, the cross 
of honor could not make me prouder.” 

“ My dear Lebrenn, you are delightful.” 

“ Your most obedient servant,” said the 
linen-draper, retiring. Just as he reached 
the door, he appeared to think of something, 
and turned back, scratching his ear. 

“ YVell, what is it, my dear Lebrenn ?” 
said the count, surprised at his return. 

‘“'The matter is,” said the tradesman, still 
scratching his ear, “ that I have an idea — 
pardon the great liberty I take.” 

“ Of course. Why should not you have 
ideas as well as any one else ?” 

“ That’s true, as Moliere says — ” 

“ What, do you read Moliere ?” asked 
the count with surprise. ‘‘ To tell the 
truth, my dear sir, I just now remarked 
that you made use of old-fashioned lan- 
guage.” 

“I will tell you why, sir; when I S!\w 
that you talked to me in something the 
same way as Don Juan did to Dimanche, or 
Dorante to Jourdain — ” 

“ What does this mean ?” exclaimed M. 
de Plouernel, more and more surprised, and 
beginning to suspect that the linen-draper 
was not so simple as he seemed ; “ what 
does this mean ?” 

“Then,” continued Lebrenn, with iron- 
ical good-nature, “in order to show my ap- 
preciation of the honor you did me, 1 as- 
sumed in turn the language of Dimancho 
and Jourdain — excuse the liberty. But, to 
return to my idea: it is my opinion, sir, 
according to my humble judgment, that 
you would not be sorry to have my daughter 
as a mistress.” 

“What!” cried the count, suddenly dis- 
comfited by this sudden address, “ 1 do not 
know — I do not understand what you 
mean.” 

“Indeed! I am but a simpleton, and 
speak only according to my humble judg- 
ment.” 

“ I’^our humble judgment ! it serves you 
badlj', sir, for, on my honor, you are ma-l : 
your idea is absurd.” 


“Is it, sir? well, so much the better; 
for 1 had said to myself, in my humble 
judgment, ‘ I am a petty shop-keeper of the 
Hue St. Denis, who sells linen; I have a 
pretty daughter ; a young lord — for it ap- 
pears that we are returning to the times of 
young lords — has seen my daughter and 
desires her ; he gives mo a large order, 
offers me his services in addition, and under 
this pretext — ’ ” 

“ M. Lebrenn, I cannot permit jests to be 
made in my presence by a certain class of 
persons.” 

“Very proper; but just listen to ray 
humble reasoning, if you please. ‘This 
young lord,’ I said to myself, ‘ proposes to 
ive an entertainment m honor of my 
aughter’s fine eyes, and to visit us fre- 
quently, for the sole ■ purpose, while thus 
playing the part of the good prince, of 
effecting the ruin of my child.’ ” 

“ Sir !” oried the count, purple with vex- 
ation and anger, “by what right do you 
take the liberty of accusing me of such in- 
tentions ?” 

“ Good ! sir, that is speaking to the 
point. I am glad to know that you would 
not have been the one to invent such an un- 
worthy and ridiculous project.” 

“ Enough, sir, enough.” 

“ Well, well, you would not have done it, 
that is understood, and I am quite at my 
ease; otherwise, you see, I should have 
been forced to say to you, humbly and rev- 
erently, as befits a poor man of my condi- 
tion : ‘ Excuse the great liberty I take, sir; 
but, do you see, it is no longer the fashion 
to seduce the daughters of poor shop-keep- 
ers like us; for the last fifty years, this 
custom has been quite out of date — quite 
out of date. My lord duke and my lord 
marquis still contemptuously address the 
shop-keepers of the Hue St. Denis with in- 
solent familiarity, a,s, “ My dear Mr. What’s 
Your Name?” or “My dear Mrs. What’s 
YY)ur Name?” looking down on the com- 
mon people as an interior race by the f )rce 
of habit; but, zounds! it would not be at 
all ' prudent for them to go any farther. 
The shop-keepers of the Hue St. "Denis are 
no longer afraid, as in olden times, of let- 
tres de cachet and the Bastille; and if mv 
lord duke or my lord marquis should take it 
into their heads to insult either them or 
their families, ’sdeath ! those shop-keepers 
of the Rue St. Denis would not Ijo long in 
giving my lord duke or my lord marquis a 
sound drubbing — pardon the liberi ; 1 say 
a sound drubbing.’ ” 

“ By heavens ! sir,” “ cried the donel, 
pale with rage, and unable to rcstr;'. him- 
self, “ is this a threat ?” 

“No, sir,” replied Lebrenn, throwi.ig off 
his bantering air, and assuming a serious 
and resolute tone, “no, it is not a threat, but 
a lesson.” 


24 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


“ A le.s«oii !’’ shouted M. de I’louernel, 
“ aud to me !"’ 

“Sir, iu spite of your aristocratic preju- 
dices, you are a luaa of honor; swear to 
me, on your honor, that, while trying to in- 
troduce yourself into my house, and ofiering 
me your services, you had no designs on 
my daughter, and I will take back what I 
have said.’' 

M. de Pk)uernel, greatly embarrassed by 
the alternative ofiered him, blushed, cast 
down his eyes before the penetrating gaze 
of the shop-keeper, and stood mute. 

“ Ah !'■’ resumed Lebrenn, bitterly, “ they 
are incorrigible ; they have forgotten noth- 
ing and learned nothing; in their eyes wo 
are still the vanquished, the conquered, the 
subject rafte.” 

“ Sir !” 

“ Ah ! I know it full well ; but we no 
longer live in the days when, after violat- 
ing my child, you could have scourged mo 
and hung mo up at the gate of your castle, 
as the lord whom you see there did to one 
of my ancestors.” Aud Lebrenn i)olnted to 
one of the portraits, to the great surprise of 
M. de Plouernel. “ It appeared to you a 
Aery natural thing, however,” added the 
shop-keeper, “to take my daughter as a mis- 
tress. i am no longer either your slave, your 
serf, your vassal, or your subject ; yet, 
jdaying the part of a good prince, you do me 
the favor to bid mo be seated, and address 
me disdainfully as ‘ My dear Lebrenn.’ 
Counts are no longer recognized, yet you 
continue to bear your title and arms. Civil 
equality is proclaimed, yet nothing would 
seem more horrible to you than to marry 
your daughter or sister to a shop-keeper or 
mechanic, Avhatever might be his merit 
or morality. Can you deny the truth of 
this ? No ; and should you cite an excep- 
tion, it would ho a new proof that it is pos- 
sible in your eyes for a person to marry 
beneath him. 'These things are trifles, you 
will say — granted; but is it not a grave 
symptom that such iihf'ortance is attached 
through tradition to these trifles ? Let you 
and yours arrive at power to-morrow, and 
by force of necessity, as under the Restora- 
tion, you would gradually re-establish all 
your ancient prh ileges, Avhicli, from being 
puerile, would then become odious, shame- 
ful, and ruinous to us all, as they Avere to 
our fathers for so many ages.” 

M. do Plouernel had been so astounded 
by the change in the shop-keepers manner 
and language that he had listened in si- 
lence; he iiOAv resumed, Avith haughty 
irony, “ And doubtless, sir, the moral of 
the fine lesson in history Avhich you have 
been kind enough to give me, in your 
capacity of linen-draper, is to hang the 
priests and nobles to the lamp-post, as in 
the days of ’89, and to marry o ir daughters 
to the fir.^t rag.imulTm that comes along.” 


“ Ah ! sir,” resumed Lebrenn, in a tone 
full of dignity, “ let us not talk of reprisals : 
forget Avhat your fathers suffered during 
those terrible years, and I Avill forget, on 
my part, Avhat my fathers suffered from 
yours, not for a few years, but for fifteen 
centuries of torture. Marry your daughters 
aud sisters to whom you please ; you have 
a right to do so ; behove that a person can 
marry beneath him' it is your OAvn busi- 
ness. I simply quote these facts as symp- 
toms, and these symptoms, I repeat, aro 
grave, for they prove that, in your eyes, 
there are, and there will always be, two 
races.” 

“ And even if this be true, hoAV does it 
I concern you ?” 

I “ It concerns us greatly, sir. The Holy 
Alliance, the assertion of divine and abso- 
lute right, and the omnipotence of the 
priesthood and the aristocracy by birth, 
such aro the inevitable results of the belief 
that there aro tAvo races — one superior, and 
I the other inferior, one made to command, 
and the other to obey and suffer.” 

M. do Plouernel remembered the conver- 
sation Avhich he had just had with his uncle, 
the cardinal, and could make no reply. 

; “ Y'ou ask mo the moral of this lesson in 

history,” resumed the shop-keeper. ‘ It is 
I this : As I am extremely jealous of the 
I liberties won for us by our fathers, at the 
i price of their blood aud martyrdom, and as 
I I wish no longer to be treated like a con- 
I quered person, as long as your pqrty remains 
Avithin the limits of the laws, I Amte against 
it in my capacity of Amtor; but Avhen, as in 
i 1830, it oversteps these limits, for the pur- 
i pose of carrying out its fixed idea by reviv- 
j ing the rule of priestcraft and despotism, 

I that is to say, the form of government that 
I existed before ’89, I join the rioters, and, 
excuse the liberty, fire with a good Avill 
upon .your party.” 

“Which returns it!” 

“ With a good aim ; for I had my arm 
broken in 1830 by a Swiss bullet. But 
why should there ahvays be battle, always 
bloodshed — and brave blood on both sides? 
Why must you ahvays dream of a past that 
can never return? You have conquered, 
despoiled, ruled, speculated upon aud tor- 
tured us for fifteen centuries ; is not that 
enough? Do wo wish in turn to oppress 
you? No, a thousand times no! 'The con- 
quest of liberty has cost us too dear, aud Ave 
know its A'aluo too well, to seek to infringe 
( n that of others. But how can it beother- 
Aviso? Since ’89 your alliances Avith for- 
eign nations, your efforts to stir up civil 
Avar, your continual countcr-rcA'oluiionary 
schemes, and your intimate alliance Avith 
the clerical party — all this disturbs and 
grieves men of thought, and irritates and ex- 
asperates men of action. Once more, Avhat 
is the U'-e of this? Does humanity over go 


THE DRAGOON’S HELMET, <tc. 


25 


backward? No, never. You may indeed 
do iiarm, and great hann; but your divine 
rights and privileges are gone, never more 
to return ; make up your mind to it; in this 
■way you will spare your country and your- 
selij ])erhaps, many disasters; for I tell you, 
the future is rcpulilican.” 

Lcbrenn’s tone and manner were so earn- 
est, that !M. de Plouernol was not convinced, 
but affected by his words ; his indomitable 
pride of rp,ee struggled with his desire to 
acknowledge to the shop-keeper that he 
found him at least a generous adversai-y. 
At that moment, the door suddenly opened, 
and an adjutant of his regiment entered, 
who said hastily,^ with a military salute, 
“ Excuse me, colonel, for entering without 
knocking, but orders have just been received 
to mount instantly and remain under arms 
in the courtyard; disturbances are expected 
this evening.’’ 

Lebrenn was preparing to leave the room, 
when M. do Plouernel said to him; “ Well, 
sir, as matters look now, after your repub- 
lican opinions, I may have 'the honor of 
meeting you to-morrow at the barricade.” 

I know not what may happen,” return- 
ed the shop-keeper, “ but I neither fear nor 
desire such a meeting.” lie added with a 
smile, “ I think, sir, we had better postpone 
the order you gave me.” 

“ I think so, too,” said the colonel, with 
a constrained bow to Lebrenn, who quit- 
ted the room. 


CHAPTER VII. 

During the preceding conversation be- 
tween the linen-draper and M. de Plouer- 
nel, the wife and daughter of the former 
had been sitting as usual behind the shop- 
counter. While her daughter embroidered, 
Madame Lebrenn employed herself in ex- 
amining the accounts. She was a woman 
of forty, of tall stature ; her face, at once 
grave and sweet, preserved the traces of 
remarkable beauty ; and there was a calm- 
ness and decision in the tones of her voice, 
her attitude, and her expression which gave 
a high idea of her character. The sight of 
her recalled to the memory the part taken 
by our mothers in the Councils of State on 
g.-eat occasions, and the courage of these 
matrons, which was so great as to cause 
Diodorus Siculus to s.ay of them, “The 
women of Gaul not only rival the men in 
loftiness of stature, but equal them in 
strength of soul.” 

iMademoisello Yclleda Lebrenn was seat- 
ed by the side of her mother. At the first 
sight of this young girl, it was impossible 
not to be struck with her rare beauty, of an 
expression at once j)roud, ingenuous and 


thoughtful. Nothing could have been clearer 
than her azure eyes, more dazzling than her 
complexion, or nobler than the bearing of 
her charming head, crowned with long 
golden brown tresses. Tall, slender, finely 
proportioned, and robust without being 
masculine, the character of her beauty ac- 
counted for the paternal caprice of the shop- 
keeper in giving his child the name of 
Velleda, once borne by an heroic woman, il- 
lustrious in the patriotic annals of Gaul. 
It would have been easy to fancy Velleda 
Lebrenn, her brow crowned with oak- 
leaves, clad in a long white robe, con- 
fined by a brass belt, striking the golden 
harp of the Druids, those admirable teach- 
ers of our fathers, who elevated them by 
the thought of the immortality of the soul, 
and taught them to die with such grandeur 
and serenity. In Velleda Lebrenn might 
likewise have been discovered the proud 
typenf those sinewy and snowy-armed Gal- 
lic women, clad in black, quoted by Ara- 
mianus INIarcellinus,* who followed their 
husbands to battle in their chariots of war, 
with their children, encouraging the com- 
batants by voice and gesture, joining them 
in case of defeat, and preferring death to 
slavery or shame. Those who did not 
evoke these tragic and glorious memories o^ 
the past, saw in Velleda Lebrenn a beautii 
ful young girl of eighteen, with magnificent 
brown tresses, whose ravishing form was 
displayed to advantage by a pretty dress of 
delicate blue poplin, set otf by a little 
cravat of orange-colored satin, knotted be- 
neath a snowy collar. 

While Madame Lebrenn examined her 
accounts, and her daughter continued her 
embroidery, chatting with her mother, Gil- 
das Pakou, theshop-boy, stood on the thresh- 
old of the door, so anxious and restless 
that he forgot to quote snatches of his be- 
loved Breton ballads. The honest lad’s 
mind was occupied with one absorbing 
thought, namely, the strange contrast which 
he found between the reality and the pro- 
mises of his mother, who had pictured the 
Rue St. Denis in general, and Lebrenn’s 
house in particular, as the very essence of 
peace and tranquillity. Suddenly, ho turned 
to Madame Lebrenn, and exclaimed in ter- 
ror, “ Madam ! madam ! do you hear ?” 

“ What, Gildas?” asked his mistress, 
calmly, continuing to write. 


* “ The Gallic woman equals her husband in strength ; 
when she is roused to anger, her eyes fla^h fire, aud her 
snowy arms, brandished in air, deal blows as swift and 
strong as the bolts from a catapult.” — Amsiiands Mar- 

CELLINVS. . 

“ I am not ignorant of the fact (hat the Gauls in- 
trusted their most important score's to the women, and 
at they often submitted the affairs which they could 
!’i>t settle among themsflves to the dccUiou of their 
' . vet and daughters.”— The Martyrs. 

I '* If a Carthaginian esteems himself injured by a Gaul, 
tlie case is submitted to the Supreme Council of the 
Gallic women.”— PiDTARCH. 


‘26 


TUF. MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


‘‘ The drum ! and see, there are men run- 
ning !'■’ 

“ Well, Gildas, let them run,” said 
Madame Lebrenn. 

“It is the call to arms,” said Velleda, 
after listening a moment. “ It is probably 
fcared that the agitation which has prevail- 
ed in Paris since last night is increasing.” 

“ Jeanike,” said Madame Lebrenn, “you 
must get your master’s uniform ready; ho 
may want it when ho comes in.” 

“ I will go for it directly.” 

“ Gildas,” resumed Madame Lebrenn, 
“ can you see the Porte St. Denis from 
hero ■?” 

“Yes,” replied Gildas, trembling; “ must 
I go there ?” 

“ No, be easy, only tell us whether many 
people are collected together.” 

“Yes, they are swarming like bees. 0 
dear ! madam, 0 dear !” 

“ What now, Gildas ?” 

“ Oh ! there are the drummers ; they are 
turning the corner, 0 dear !” 

“ Well!” 

“ Some men in blouses have just stopped 
them and burst their drums. Look ! every- 
body is running this way. Hear how they 
shout 1 Shall avo close the shop ?” 

“ Really, Gildas, you are not much of a 
hero,” said \'elleda, smiling, without ceas- 
ing her embroidery. 

At that moment a man in a blouse, who 
was laboriously dragging a hand-cart, ap- 
parently hcaA’lly laden, stopped before the 
shop, drcAv the cart on the sidewalk, entered 
the shop, and asked, 

“ Does M. Lebrenn live here ?” 

“ Y es.” 

“ Here are four bales of goods for him.” 

“ Linen, I suppose ?” asked Madame Le- 
brenn. 

“ I — I suppose so,” answered the porter, 
.smiling. 

“ Gildas,” said Madame Lebrenn to the 
lad, Avho was staring Avith increasing terror, 
“ help this man to carry the goods into the 
back shop.” 

The porter and Gildas unloaded the hales, 
which Avero in largo thick rolls, covered 
with coarse broAA'ii linen. 

“ This linen must be most confoundedly 
close packed,” exclaimed Gildas, as Avith 
difficulty ho aided the porter to carry the 
last; “ it is as heavy as lead.” 

“Indeed; do you think so, my good fel- 
loAV?” rejoined the porter, fixing his gaze 
on Gildas. Then turning to Madamo Le- 
brenn, “My commission is done,” said ho, 
“ but I adviso you not to put these bales in 
a damp place or near the fire until M. Le- 
brenn’s arrival; these linens are very — 
very delicate.” As he said this, ho AA'iped 
his forehead, which was wet Avith perspira- 
tion. 

“You must have found it \'ery difficult to 


bringAheso goods all alone,” said Madame 
Lebrenn kindly, and opening the monoy- 
draAver, she took from it a ten-sous piece, 
Avhich she laid on the counter. “ IlerS, 
take this for your trouble.” 

“A thousand thanks, madam ; I am al- 
ready paid,” replied the porter, smilin". 

“ What a Avonderfnl house is this, Avnero 
porters return thanks and refuse money for 
drink !” thought Gildas. 

Madame Lebrenn, surprised at the man- 
ner in Avhich the porter had declined her 
oiler, raised her eyes and saAV a man of 
about thirty", Avith a pleasing countenance 
and, Avhat is rare among porters, remarkably 
Avhite and clean hands, with a fine gold 
signet-ring on the little finger. 

“ Can you tell mo, sir,” asked she, 
“Avhether the disturbance has increased 
much to-day in Paris ?” 

“ Greatly, Madam; it is almost impossi- 
ble to make one’s Avay through the streets. 
Troops are coming from all sides ; the ar- 
tillery is posted with lighted fusees close by 
here, opposite, the Gymnasium. I met tAvo 
squadrons of dragoons patrulling Avith their 
muskets in their hands. The drums are 
everywhere beat to arms; though the Na- 
tional Guard shows very little alacrity. 
But, excuse me, madam,” said the porter, 
bowing politely to, madam Lebrenn and 
her daughter, “it is almost four o’clock, and 
I am in haste.” He left the shop, and hur- 
riedly Avheeled away his cart. 

On hearing of the artillery stationed in 
the neighborhood Avith liglited fusees, Gil- 
das’s astonishment became unbounded j 
nevertheless, divided between hope and fear, 
ho ventured to glance again into that ter- 
rible Rue St. Denis, in such close proximity 
to the cannon. At the moment that Gildas 
stretched his neck out of the shop, the young 
girl Avho had brcakfa'^tedAA'ith M. do Plouer- 
nel and improvised such mad-cap songs, came 
out of the alley leading to the house where 
George Ducheno lived, just opposite the 
linen-draper’s shop. ITadelino looked 
anxious and uneasy. She Avalked onAvai-d a 
foAV steps, then drcAV as near as possible to 
Lobrenn’s abode, and tried to look in, but 
AY as prevented by the thick AvindoAV-curtaius. 
The door, it is true, Avas open, but Gildas, 
Avho stootl in it, blocked it up completely. 
Pradoline, hoA\'e\'er, not thinking that she 
Avas obser\ ed, tried her best to look into the 
sliop. Gildas had been Avatehing the young 
girl’s maneuvers for some time Avith in- 
creasing surpiise; mistaking their meaning, 
ho belicAod himself the object of the per- 
sistent gaze of Pradeliue. The b.ishful lad 
cast doAvn his eyes and blushed to the cars; 
his frightened modesty bid him go into the 
shop, to prove to the bold girl the little 
value that he set on her allurements, but 
his self-love kept him standing in the door- 
Avaj. , saying to himself more than ever. 


THE DRAGOON’S HELMET, Ac. 


27 


“ What a wonderful city this is, where the 
young girKcomo close to loaded cannon, to 
stare at lads.’' Then seeing Pradelino cross 
the street and enter a neighboring coffee- 
house, ‘-The unhappy girl!” ho cried, “she 
has probably gone to drown her cares in 
brandy. Who knows but she will come 
back and pursue me into the shop ? What 
would Madame Lebrenn' and M.ademoiselle 
say 

A new incident cut short for the mo- 
ment the modest fears of Gildas. A four- 
wheeled truck, drawn by a powerful horse, 
and containing three large, flat cases, about 
sis feet in height, marked “ilandlo care- 
fully,” stopped before the door. The truck 
was driven by two men ; one, that Dupont, 
who had called early in the morning to 
prevent Lebrenn from going to his pepper 
stores; the other wearing a bushy, gray 
board. They alighted, and Dupont, entering 
the shop, bowed to Madame Lebrenn, say- 
ing, “Is M. Lebrenn at home?” 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Here are three cases of looking-glasses 
for him.” 

“ Very well,” replied liladame Lebrenn, 
and calling Gildas, she ordered him to 
assist in carrying them into the back shop. 

“ A Avonderful house !” murmured the 
shop-boy, obeying. “ Three cases of look- 
ing-glasses, and so heaAy ! My master and 
his Avifo and daughter must be very fond of 
looking at themselves.” 

Dupont and his gray-bearded companion 
had just aided Gildas in carrying the cases 
to the back shop, when Madame Lebrenn 
asked, “ Is there anything new, sir ? Is the 
excitement quieted in Paris ?” 

“On the contrary, madam, it grows 
warmer and warmer,” answered Dupont, 
with an ill-disguised air of satisfaction. 
“They are beginning to erect barricades 
in the Faubourg St. Antoine. To-night, 
the preparations; to-morrow, the battle.” 
Scarcely had be uttered these words Avhen 
a great tumult and loud shouts of “ Reform 
forever !” were heard at a distance. Gil- 
das ran to the door. 

“Let us make haste,” said Dupont to his 
companion, “ or our truck will bo taken to 
build a barricade. It would bo too soon, 
we have more customers to serve.” Then, 
bowing to iMadame Lebrenn, “ My compli- 
ments to your juisband,” ho said. 

Tlie two men sprang to tlieir seat, whipped 
their horse, and disappeared in an opposite 
direction from the crowd. Gildas had fol- 
lowed this new movement of the mob with 
increasing anxiety. lie suddenly saw Prad- 
elino <iuit the coffee-house and come tOAvard 
the shop Avith a letter in her hand. “What 
madness! She has been Avriting to _me,” 
thought Gildas. “The unfortunate girl is 
bringing mo a letter, a declai’atlon of love. 
I shall bo disgraced in the sight of my em- 


ployers !” In his terror, the affrighted lad 
shut the door, turned the key, and slunk 
into .a corner. 

“What is the matter?” asked Madame 
Lebrenn ; “ Avhy do you shut the door ?” 

“ It is more prudent, madam; I just saAv a 
band of frightful-looking men coming this 
way.” 

“ You have lost your reason, Gildas. Open 
the door.” 

“ But, madam — ” 

“ Do as I tell you. There, some one is 
trying to get in. Open the door.” 

“ It is that huzzy with her letter,” thought 
Gildas, more dead than alive. “ Ah ! why 
did I ever quit my quiet little town of Au- 
ray !” lie opened the door with a beating 
heart, but instead of seeing the young girl 
with her letter, he found himself face to 
face with the linen-draper and his son. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Madame Lebrenn was surprised and 
delighted at the sight of her son, whom 
she thought still at school. Vellcda ten- 
derly embraced her brother, while the shop- 
keeper pressed the hand of his wife. 

Sacrovir Lebrenn, from his resolute air, 
seemed worthy to bear the glorious name 
that formerly belonged to one cf the great- 
est Gallic patriots of whom history makes 
mention. The son of the linen-draper Avas 
a tall and robust lad of over nineteen, with 
an open, kindly, and fearless countenance; 
a light down shaded his lip and chin, and 
his cheeks were flushed with emotion; ho 
strongly resembled his father. Madame 
Lebrenn embraced her son, saying, “ I little 
expected the pleasure of seeing you to-day, 
my child.” 

“ I went to his school for him,” said her 
husband. “ You shall knoAv Avhy, directly, 
my dear Ilenory.” 

“ Without being alarmed,” returned 
Madame Lebrenn, “Velleda and I have 
been surprised at not seeing you before. It 
appears that the excitement is increasing in 
Paris. The drums have beat to arms.” 

“ 0 mother !” cried Sacrovir, his eyes 
sparkling with enthusiasm, “ Paris is in 
a fever. All hearts are beating high. 
Strangers meet in the streets like old ac- 
quaintances, and Hinderstand each other at 
the first glance ; burning Avords and sum- 
mons to arms are heai'd in every street ; 
the air smells of powder, in short! 0 
mother, mother!” added the young man, 
excitedly, “ hoAV beautiful is the uprising 
of a people !” 

“Come, calm yourself, enthusiast,” said 
Madame Lebrenn, smiling, as she Aviped 


28 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


the perspiration from her son’s forehead 
with her handkerchief, while Lebrenn em- 
braced his daughter. 

“ Cildas,” said the shop-keeper, “ have 
any cases been brought here in my ab- 
sence ?” 

“ Ves, sir ; linen and looking-glasses ; 
they are in the back shop.” 

“ Very well, let them alone, and, above 
all, take care not to carry the light near the 
linen.” 

“ It seems as inflammable as gun-cotton ; it 
must bo muslin or gaur.e,” thought Gildas, 
“yet it is as heavy as lead; another won- 
derful circumstance !” 

“ My dear,” said Lebrenn to his wife, “ I 
have Eometh ng to say to you ; let us go to 
jour room while jeaniko sets the table, for 
it is late. Gildas, you may put up the shut- 
ters ; we shall not bo likely to have many 
customers to-night.” 

“ Close the shop ! Oh ! sir, you are right,” 
cried Gildas, with delight. “ I have long 
been thinking that it wnis lime !” 

“ Vv' ait a moment, Gildas,” said his mas- 
ter; “you must not close the door, for 
several persons are coming hero to see me. 
You can take them into tlie back shop and 
let mo know when they come.” 

“ Yes, sir,” replied Gildas, with a sigh, for 
he would liavo much rather seen the shop 
w'holly closed, and the door secured by its 
stout iron bars. 

“Now, my dear,” said Lebrenn to his 
wife, “ wo will go to your room.” 

Night had already set in. The family of 
the linen-draper repaired to the second 
story, and assembled in the sleeping-apart- 
ment of Madame Lebrenn. “ My dear 
Ilcnory,” said Lebrenn, “ we are on the eve 
of great events.” 

“I am of your opinion,” replied his wife, 
pensively. 

“ I will tell you, briefly, how affairs 
stand,” continueci Lebrenn. “ You ought 
to know this in order to judge of the course 
I have determined to take ; to oppose it if 
it seems to you unjust and wrong, or to 
encourage it if it seems to you good.” 

“ I am listening, my dear,” replied his 
wife, as calm, serious and thoughtful as our 
mothers in those solemn councils where 
their advice often prevailed. 

“Yesterday,” resumed Lebrenn, “Barrot 
and his comrades, after endeavoring for 
threo months to stir up France, summoned 
the people to assemble in the streets ; but 
these bold agitators did hot venture to ap- 
pear there themselves. The people mot by 
themselves, to assert their right of assem- 
bling, and to transact their own affairs. 
This evening it is said that the king has 
taken Barrot and his comrades into tlie 
ministry. Now wo do not rise to make 
this foolish man, the puppet of Thiers, min- 
ister; what we wish, what the people wish. 


is the overthrow of the throne, the estab- 
lishment of a republic, sovereignty for all, 
and political rights for all, in order to 
secure to all education, comfort, work, and 
credit, as the reward of courage and integ-* 
rity. This is Avhat we wish, my wife ; is it 
just or unjust ?” 

“It is just,” replied Madame Lebrenn, 
in a firm and decided tone, “it is just.” 

“I have told you what wo wish,” con- 
tinued Lebrenn, “ I will tell you what we 
will no longer suffer. Wo will no longer 
suffer two hundred thousand privileged 
voters alone to decide the fate of thirty- 
four millions of the common jKJople, in the 
same manner th.nt an imperceptible con- 
quering minority, w'hethcr Roman or Frank- 
ish, despoiled, subjugated, and worked our 
fathers for twenty centuries. No, wo will 
no longer sufler electoral or industrial feud- 
alism any more than martial feudalism. 
Wife, is this just or unjust ?” 

“ It is just; for serfhood and slavery have 
been perpetuated to our days,” returned 
Madame Lebreitn, with emotion. “ It is 
just; for I am a woman, and I have seen 
women, the slaves of insufficient w'ages, <lie 
by inches, worn out with excessive labor 
and want. It is just; for I am a mother, 
and I have seen daughters, the slaves of 
manufacturers, forced to choose between 
dishonor and loss of Avork — that is, of bread. 
It is just; for I am a wdfe, and I have seen 
fathers of families, upright, industrious, and 
intelligent tradesmen, the slaves and victims 
of the caprice or usurious cupidity of their 
masters, the large capitalists, condemned to 
bankruptcy, ruin, and despair. Lastly, 
your resolution is just and good, my deai*,” 
added Madame Lebrenn, extending her 
hand to her husband, “ because, happy as 
you have hitherto been in escaping many 
evils, it is your duty to devote yourself to 
the enfranehisement of your brethren, who 
are suffering from calamities from Avhich 
wo are exempt.” 

“ Brave and generous woman ! you re- 
double my strength and courage,” cried 
Lebrenn, warmly pressing his wife’s hand; 
“ I expected nothing less of you. Now, a 
last Avord. These just rights which we 
demand for our brethren, must bo con- 
quered, as usual, by force — by arms.” 

“ I believe you, my dear.” 

“Therefore,” resumed the shop-keeper, 
“to-night, the barricades; to-morrow, at 
day-break, the battlcv It Avas for this 
reason that I brought our son aAvay from 
school. Do you approve of it? do you 
Avish him to remain ?” , 

“ Yes ; your son’s place is by your side.” 

“ Oil ! thanks, thanks, mother !” cried the 
young man, throAving himselt into the arras 
of his mother, who clasped him to her 
breast. 

“Look at him, father!” said Velleda, 


THE DRAGOON’S HELMET, Ac. 29 


half smiling, “he is as happy as thougli it 
were a holi(la3^•’ 

“ But tell me, my clear,” resumed ]Mad- 
amo Lebrenn, addressing her husband, 
“ where will you and Sacrovir fight ? Will 
the barricade be near here — in this 
street *?” 

“ At our door,” replied Lebrenn. “ It is 
agreed upon — my friends spoil mo.” 

“ Oh ! so much the better,” exclaimed his 
wife, “ wo shall bo close by you.” 

“ Mother,” said \’c‘lleda, “ ought wo not to 
I-repare lint and bandages to-night ? There 
will be many wounded.” 

“ I was thinking of it, my child. Our 
shop will answer for a hospital.” 

“O my mother! my sister!” cried the 
young man, “we shall fight for liberty 
under your eyes. How it will inspire us! 
Alas !” he added, after a moment’s reflec- 
tion, “ why must brothers shed each other’s 
blood ?” 

“ It is sad that it must be so,” replied his 
father, with a sigh. “ Ah ! the blood shed 
in this fratricidal conflict bo on tlio heads 
of those Avho force a nation to claim its 
rights by arms, as we shall do to-morrow, as 
our fathers did iu almost every century of 
our history, and sometimes even two or 
three times in a century — heroes as they 
were ! Bless their forgotten names, there- 
fore, my children. The blood of these un- 
known heroes and martyrs has fructified 
the germ of all our liberties, since there 
has never been a social, political, or reli- 
gious reform that has not been won by 
these terrible popular insurrections in 
which so many have perished !” 

“Thank God! in our days, at least, we 
fight witliotit hatred,” said the young man. 
“ The soldiers fight in the name of disci- 
pline, the people in the name of their rights 
— a fatal, but honorable, duel, which, once 
over, the surviving adversaries shake 
hands.” 

“ But, as all are not survivors, and as I 
or my son may remain at a barricade,” re- 
sumed Lebrenn, smiling, “ a last word, my 
children. You see that where others turn 
pale with fear, wo smile serenely; and 
wherefore ? Because t(» us there is no such 
thing as death; because, reared in the faith 
of our fathers, instead of seeing, in what is 
termed the end of life, something lugu- 
brious and terrible, which plunges us into 
eternal darkness, wo see naught in death 
but the door through which wo pass to 
meet or to wait a shorter or longer time 
for those wo love, and to rejoin them on the 
other side of the curtain, which, during the 
first part of our life here on earth, hides 
from us the marvelous and dazzling mys- 
teries of our future stages of existence — 
stages as infinite and varied as the divine 
power from which they emanate. In a 
word, we do not cease to live, but go to live 


elsewheie in unknown countries, that is 
all.”* 

“ Such is so far my idea of death,” cried 
Sacrovir, “that I am sure of dying with 
a feeling of incredible curiosity. What 
strange and dazzling new worlds shall I 
visit !” 

“ My brother is right,” said Velleda, with 
equal curiosity ; “ it must bo so beautiful, 
new, and marvelous ! And how delightful 
to think that wo sliall be separated 
but for a moment throughout eternity! 
Oh ! at the thought, )uy dear mother, how 
impatient the mind is to sec and to know !” 

“ Come, come, you curious girl, don’t be 
so impatient,” rejoined her mother, laugh- 
ing, but with a tone of afiectionate re- 
proach. “ Don’t you remember how I used 
to scold you, when a child, iu your draAving 
lessons, for thinking less of the model that 
you were copying than of the next one that 
you Avere to have ? I bog of you, my dear 
child, not to lot your natural curiosity to 
knoAv Avhat is on the other side of the cur- 
tain distract your attention from the things 
on this side.” 


* We have supposed— a thing less strange than it ap- 
pears at first sight, since the Jewish r. ligion, which is 
not less aLCient than DruiUism, still has its believers — 
l.cbrenn and his family to have rem lined faith- 
ful, through tradition, to the doctrine of the eternity 
t f the physical existence, so admirably expoun led by 
the Druids of Gaul, in the subsequent part of this 
work we shall see the prodigies wrought by this 
lailh In the continuity and pirpetuity of our exist- 
ence, many centuries before the appearance of Christian- 
ity. AVe will merely quote here an e.xtract from the 
magnificent work on Druidism by our illustrious iriend 
Ueynaud : 

Such was the essential characteristic of the doctrine 
of the I'ruids, and therefore was it that those who be- 
lieved in it Were delivered, as far as possible, from the 
fear t f death. On being separated from the organs 
which he had used during hts ea'dhly existence, man 
did not become a shade — as in Paganism and the doc- 
i. ines of the Churcli of Rome— but the soul immedia ely 
to. k possession of a new body, and this without enter- 
ing the f ibulous empire of i’luto, or that of Satan, any 
more than the mystical clouds of the empyrean; it 
simply went to take up its abode on ano her pi met. 
Death, therefore, formed, in reality, but a dividin^j^line 
between a periodical series of existence. Tins iseiident 
from the verses of Lucan : ‘ Acc-wding to you,’ he says, 
addressing the Druids, ‘ the shades do not re|iair to the 
pilent dintains of Erebus and the pale kingdom of 
Pluto ; the same spirit rules in ano her world, composed 
of other members. If your hymns be true, death is only 
a halt in a long life.’ 

’ Lucan was right in adding that (he Gauls were 
happy in the possession of such a faith. There is no 
reason for astonishment, theref.ire, that the doctrine of 
immortality should have formed the chief feature of 
tlieir religion; it was the most elevated, and conse- 
quently the m- st fruitful ; and for this reason, nothing 
was more natural than that it should have been pre- 
sented to the people as the most precious tf teachings. 
The historians agree In affirming the partiality of the 
Druids for this doctrine, wliich is, indeed, that most 
characteristic of the geniuo of Gaul. Pompilius Mela 
says, that it was the only dsetrine that was popular. 
Cmsar, who regards it from a military point of view — 
that is, la its 1. fluenco on war— Iiktw.se asserts that 
there was nothing to which the Druids attached gi eater 
importance. ‘In the first place,’ says Cmsar, ‘the 
Druids seek to persuade mca that the soul does n''t 
jierish, but passes after death Lorn one body to another, 
and they think that this acts as a powerful incentive to 
courage, by making men disregard the fear of death.’ 
‘ AVhat do you fear V a Gaul was once asked. ‘ I fear 
nothing but the falling of the skies,’ was the answer.” 


30 


TUE MYSTCRIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


“Oil! be ea.sy, mother,” replied the 
young girl, warmly. “ As long as you and 
father, and Sacrov'ir are on this side of the 
vail, I shall have enough to occupy my 
thoughts without becoming abstra^-led.” 

“ fiee how the time has passed while we 
have been philosophizing,” said Lebrenn, 
laughing. “ Jeaniko has come to call us to 
dinner, and I have told yon nothing as yet 
that 1 meant to say. In case my curiosity 
should bo satisfied before yours, my dear 
Ilenory,” he added, addressing his wife and 
pointing to a desk, “ you will find my last 
wishes there. You know them already, for 
wo have but one mind. This,” said he, tak- 
ing an unsealed envelope from his pocket, 
“concerns our dear daughter; you will 
give it to her after reading it.” Velleda 
colored at the thought that it probably re- 
lated to her marriage. 

“ As to you, my child,” said the shop- 
keeper, addressing his son, “ take this key,” 
and he detached it from his watch-chain. 
“ It is the key of the room tho shutters of 
which are kept closed, and which no one 
but myself and your mother has . yet entered. 
Next year, on the eleventh of Septem- 
ber, you will have attained y'our ono-and- 
twentieth year; on that day, and not before, 
you can open the door. Among other 
things, you will find in this room a docu- 
ment which jmu are to read, and which 
will inform you that by virtue of an im- 
memorial family tradition — for we plebe- 
ians, we the vanquished, also have our 
archives, archives often as glorious, believe 
me, as those of our conquerors — you will 
learn, I say, that by virtue of a family tra- 
dition, the eldest son, or in default of such, 
the eldest daughter, or our nearest relative, 
is made acquainted with these archives, 
and the various relics adjoined thereto. 
Now, my beloved ones,” added Lebrenn, in 
a voice trembling with emotion, rising and 
opening his arms to his wife and children, 
“ a last embrace. Before to-morrow wo 
may be separated for a time, and tho pos- 
sibility of a separation is always sadden- 
ing.” 

The picture was an affecting one. Mad- 
ame Lebrenn clung to the neck of her hus- 
band, who threw one arm round his daugh- 
ter and the other round his son, and clasped 
them passionately to his breast. The 
touching group remained for some mo- 
ments silent, and naught was heard but the 
tender kisses exchanged ; then, this debt of 
nature paid, despite a stoicism derived from 
their faith in eternal life, they relaxed their 
loving embrace, and raided their heads with 
a calm but sad expression; the mother and 
daughter grave and thoughtful, tho father 
and son tranquil and resolute. 

“ And now,” said Lebrenn, “ to work, my 
dear children. You, wife, will busy your- 
self with Velleda and Jeanike in making 


bandages and scraping lint, while I and 
Sacrovir w’ill employ ourselves, till tho mo- 
ment for tho simultaneous ei’ection of the 
barricades all over Paris, in unpacking the 
cartridges and arms, with which -several of 
my comrades are to supply themselves 
hei’e.” 

“ But where are these arms, my dear ?” 
asked JMadame Lebrenn. 

“ In those bales and cases just brought 
here,” answered the shop-keeper, with a 
smile. 

“ Oh 1 now I understand. But it will be 
necessary to take Gildas into your confi- 
dence. The lad can doubtless be trusted ; 
nevertheless, are you not afraid — ” 

“ At this moment, my dear Ilenory, the 
mask is thrown off ; it is too late to fear in- 
discretion. If poor Gildas is afraid, I will 
offer him a safe retreat in the cellar or the 
loft. Now for dinner ; then you can return 
here with Velleda and Jeanike to prepare 
stores for your hospital, while Sacrovir and 
I will stay in the shop, for we shall have 
numerous visitors to-night.” 

The family descended to the back shop, 
where they dined in haste. The excitement 
continued to increase in the street; the 
dull, threatening noise of the mob was 
heard in the distance, like the distant roar of 
tho tempest on tho waves. A fcAv windows 
were illuminated in honor of the change in 
the ministry ; but some friends of Lebrenn, 
who came in and out, bringing him fresh 
tidings, asserted that these concessions of 
royalty only testified its weakness, that tho 
night would be a decisive one, and that the 
people were everywhere arming themselves 
and asking for muskets at the different 
houses, after which they chalked on the 
door, “ Arms furnished.” 

Dinner over, Madame Lebrenn returned 
with her daughter and Jeaniko to hot room, 
which looked out on tho street, while the 
linen-draper, his son, and Gildas remained in 
tho back shop. The latter was endowed by 
nature with a healthy appetite; neverthe- 
less, ho ate nothing, his uneasiness increas- 
ed every moment, and he said oftener than 
ever to Jeanike, “WJiat a wonderful house ! 
what wonderful streets ! what a wonderful 
city !” 

“Gildas,” said Lebrenn, “bring me a 
hammer and chisel ; I and my son will open 
these cases, while you open those bales.” 

“ Those bales of linen, sir ?” 

“ Yes. In tbe first place, rip up the cover- 
ing with a knife.” 

Tho linen-draper, together with Sacrovir, 
furnished with hammers and chisels, began 
to deal tho cases vigorous blows, ■while 
Gildas, laying one of tho bales on the floor, 
knelt down and prepared to open it. “ 0, 
sir,” cried ho suddenly, frightened by the 
violent blows which his master gave tho 
case with the hammer, “ Oh sir, take care ; 


31 


THE DRAGOON 

look, the cases are marked ‘ Handle careful- 
ly you will break the looking-glasses to 
atoms V’ 

“Co easy, Gildas,’^ answered his master, 
hammering with all his might, “these 
looking-glasses are very solid.” 

“ They are plated over with lead and 
ir.)n,” said Sacrovir, redoubling his blows. 

“ IMoro and more wonderful !” murmured 
L ild.as, kneeling before the bale, in order 
to cut it open. To see the better, he took 
a caudle and placed it on the floor beside 
him. lie was beginning to rip the coarse 
brown linen covering, when Lebrenn, sud- 
denly spying the illumination contrived by 
his Shopman, shouted, “ What, Gildas, are 
you mad? Put the ligut on the table. 
The devil ! do you want to blow us up, my 
lad ?” 

“ Blow us up, sir!” cried Gildas in terror, 
springing back from the bale, while Sacro- 
vir replaced the light on the table; “why 
should 1 blow us up ?” 

“ Because these bales are full of car- 
tridges, my lad ; so take care.” 

“ Cartridges !” cxdcdGildas, drawing back, 
more and more frightened, wliilo the linen- 
draper took a couple of muskets from the 
caso that ho had j ust opened, and his sou 
drew forth several carabines and pairs of 
pistols. At the sight of these arms, and 
feeling himself surrounded with cartridges, 
Gildas’s head turned, he grew fearfully 
pale, and, loaning against a table for sup- 
port, cried, “ What a w'onderful house, 
where the bales of linen are cartridges and 
the looking-glasses guns and pistols 1” 

“ My good Gildas,” said'his master, kind- 
ly, “there is no danger in unpacking these 
arms and ammunition. This is all 1 expect 
of you. As soon as it is done, you can goto 
the cellar or the loft, if you like, and re- 
main there in safety till tlie battle is over ; 
for I must warn you, Gildas, that there will 
be a battle at day-break. Only, once in 
your retreat, don’t put your nose outside 
when you hear the firing, for bullets often 
miscarry.” 

This talk of stray bullets, battle, and 
firing plunged Gildas into a sort of giddi- 
ness, easy to bo imagined; ho had not ex- 
pected to find the Hue St. Denis so warlike, 
llis terror was soon redoubled. Fresh 
noises, at first distant, came nearer, and 
finally burst forth with such fury that Gil- 
das, Lebrenn, and his son rushed to the 
shop-door to see what was going on in the 
street. 


CHAPTER IX. 

When Lebrenn, his son, and Gildas 
rushed to the door, attracted by tho increas- 
ing noise and tumult, tho street was already 
crowded with the rioters, while the open 


’S lIELMt:.T, etc. 

windows were filled with curious spectators. 
Suddenly, flickering gleams of reddish 
light illuminated tho fronts of tlie houses. 
These sinister flashes were accoinp.anied and 
preceded by a vast, sui’ging mass, which in- 
creased continually. Tho clamor became 
more and more terrible. At intervals cries 
of “ To arms ! Vengeance !” rose above the 
tumult. These cries were answered by ex- 
clamations of horror. Tho women who 
had been drawn to tho casements by tho 
noise fell back terrified, as if to escape 
some frightful vision. Tho linen-draper 
and kis son, with throbbing hearts and 
moist brows, remained on tho threshold, 
with a foreboding of some horrible spec- 
tacle. 

The funeral train at length appeared in 
sight. An innumerable multitude of men, 
variously arrayed in blouses, in citizen’s 
dress, and in the uniform of tho National 
Guard, and brandishing guns, swords, 
knives and clubs, preceded a diligence- 
truck, drawn slowly by one horse, and sur- 
rounded by men, carrying torches. Tho 
cart was J leaped with dead bodies. A man 
of prodigious stature, with a red cap on 
his head and naked to tho waist, stood up- 
right in front of tho vehicle, waving a 
lighted torch. Ho might have been taken 
for tho genius of vengeance and insurrec- 
tion. At every movement, tho rod flame of 
his torch lighted up, hero tho gray hairs of 
old men stained with blood, there tho bust 
of a woman, whoso nerveless arms and livid 
and bleeding head, half hidden by long, 
loose hair, dangled from tho cart. At in- 
tervals, the man in the red cap waved his 
torch and cried in a voice of thunder, 
“ They are massacring our brothers ! Venge- 
ance f To tho barricades ! To arms !” 
Thousands of voices, trembling with anger 
and indignation, repeated the cry, “ Venge- 
ance ! To tho barricades 1 To arms 1” while 
thousands of hands, both armed and un- 
armed, were raised toward the dark and 
stormy sky, as if to call it to witness these 
avenging oaths. 

Tho exasperated crowd which swelled 
tho funeral train continued to increase. It 
passed like a bloody vision lieforo tho linen- 
draper and his son. Their first emotion was 
so painful that they were unable to utter a 
word. Their eyes filled with tears on learn- 
ing that these inofiensivo and unarmed 
people had just been massacred on the 
Boulevard des Capucines. Scarcely had tho 
cart disappeared with tho dead bodies when 
Lebrenn seized one of tho iron bars used to 
close his shop, and, brandishing it above 
his head, exclaimed to tho indignant crowd, 
“ Friends ! royalty has liegun tho battle by 
slauglitering our brethren; their Iflood bo on 
its accursed head. May this blood smother 
it forever I No more kings! No more 
butchers of tho people ! To tho barricades! 


TUE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


To arms ! The republic . forever !’’ And 
the linen-draper and his son tore up the 
first paving-stones. 

The Avords and example were electric, 
and thousands of voices rei’chced the cry, 

“ To arms ! To the l)arricadcs ! Down with 
the kings ! Down with the butchers of the 
people! Long live the republic !'^ In an 
instant, the neighboring houses were every- 
where invaded by men demanding weapons 
and bars with which to tear up the pave- 
mei'.t. The first opening made, those who 
had neither iron bars nor sticks began to 
tear up the stones with their hands. 

Lebrenn and his son were vigorously la- 
boring to erect a barricade a few paces 
from their door, when they were joined by 
George Duchene, the joiner, accompanied 
bv twenty armed men, foi’ming half a sec- 
tfon cf the secret society to which both ho 
and Lebrenn belonged. Among these new 
combatants were the two porters who had 
brought the arms and ammunition to the 
shop during the day ; one an eminent liter- 
ary man, and the other a scholar, together 
with Dupont, the engineer. Qeorgo Du- 
ch6uc approached Lebrenn just as the lat- 
ter, ceasing for an instant to work at the 
barricade, was distributing arms and ammu- 
nition from the door of his shop to the men 
of the neighborhood on whom he could 
rely ; while Gildas, whose poltroonery had 
been transformed into heroism ever since the 
sinister appearance cf the cart filled with 
dead bodies, returned from the cellar with 
several basketsful of wine, which he pour- 
ed out for the workmen on the barricade 
to refresh them. George, dressed in a 
blouse, carried a carabine in his hand and 
a supply of cartridges in i handkerchief 
tied about his waist. 

“ It was impossible for me to come any 
sooner, M. Lebrenn,’’ said he to the linen- 
draper, “ on account of having to pass so 
many barricades. I have just left Caus- 
sidicro and Sobrier, who are preparing to 
march on the Prefecture; Leserre, Lagrange 
and Etienno Arago are to march on the 
Tuilories and barricade the Hue Kichelieu 
at daybreak ; and our other friends are di- 
vided among several districts.” 

“ And what of the troops, George ?” 

“ Several of the regiments are fraterniz- 
ing with the N ationa] Guard, and the peo- 
ple are shouting, ‘ Hurrah for Reform, down 
with Louis Philippe!’ But the Muni- 
cipal Guard and two cavalry regiments of 
the lino show themselves hostile to the 
outbreak.” 

“ Poor soldiers !” replied the linen- 
draper, sadly, “ they* like we, are forced to 
submit to that terrible flitality which arms 
brothers against each other. But I hope 
that this conflict will bo the last. Have you 
seen your grandfather, George, and reas- 
sured him ?” 


“ Yes, I left him but a moment since. In 
spite of his age and weakness, he wished 
to come with mo ; I persuaded him to stay 
at home.” 

“ My wife and daughter are yonder,” said 
the linen-draper, pointing to the light that 
gleamed through the blinds of the second 
story ; “they are busy scraping lint for the 
wounded. Our shop is to bo turned into a 
hospital.” 

Suddenly the cry of “Stop thief !” Avas 
heard in the street, and a man rushed by at 
full speed, but was instantly overtaken and 
arrested by five or six Avorkingmen, dressed 
in blouses and armed Avith guns. Among 
them Avas a rag-picker, Avith a long, gray 
beard, but agile and robust, diossed in 
rags and still carrying his bag on his back, 
although ho hold a musket in his hand, 
lie Avas one of the first to arrest the fugi- 
tive, Avhem ho held Avith a firm grasp by 
the collar, Avhen a woman came running 
up, panting and shouting with all her 
might, “Stop thief!” 

“ Has this youngster robbed you, dame ?” 
said the rag-picker. 

“ Yes, my good man,” she answered ; “*I 
was standing on my door-step, when this man 
came up and said, ‘ The people are rising, 
Avo must have arms.’ ‘ I have none,’ said 
1. ‘ Well, if you have no arms, 1 must 

have money to buy some,’ said ho. Pushing 
me aside and forcing his way into my shop, 
ho opened the money -draAver, and took from 
it thirty-two francs and a gold Avatch. I 
tried to stop him ; ho drew a knife on me, 
but, fortunately, I caught the bloAV on my 
hand. See hoAv it bleeds. I screamed, and 
ho fled.” 

The accused Avas a well-dressed man, but 
his face Avas a villainous one, bearing the 
ineffaceable stamp of hardened vice. 

“ It is not true ; I am not guilty,” cried he 
in a husky voice, struggling to aA'oid being 
searched. “ Lot mo go ! Besides, what busi- 
ness is it of yours?” 

“Wait a bit and you Avill see Avhether it 
is our business, my youngster,” ansAvered 
the rag-picker, holding him fast. “ You haA’O 
stabbed this poor Avoman after robbing her, 
in the name of the people. What have you 
to say for yourself? Speak quick.” 

“ Hero is the watch already,” said a 
Avorkingman, Avho Avas searching the thief. 

“ Can you tell us Avhat sort of a Avatch it 
was, madam ?” 

“Yes, indeed; it Avas a very thick, old- 
fashioned one.” 

“This answers the description exactly. 
Here, take it.” 

“And in his jacket-pocket,” said another 
man, continuing the search, “are six hun- 
dred-sous pieces and a forty-sous piece.” 

“ My thirty-tAVO francs !” cried the shop- 
Avomau ; “ thank you, kind gentlemen, thank 
you.” 


THE DRAGOON’S HELMET, &c. 


33 


“ And now, youngster, you must settle 
accounts with us,” said tlie rag-picker. 
“ So you have robbed and tried to murder 
in the name of the people, eh ?” 

“ Come, come, friends, are we not in the 
midst of a revolution ?” replied the thief 
in a hoarse voice, with a vicious laugh. “ It 
is the time to break open tills.” 

“Is that what you call revolution, then; 
breaking open tills ?” asked the rag-picker. 

“ And why not ?” 

“ Do you think that the people rise in 
insurrection only for the sake of plunder, 
thief that you are ?” , 

“ What else have you risen for, then, you 
hypocrites — for the. sake of honor, eh?” 
replied the robber, audaciously. • 

The group of armed men who surfomded 
the robber, the. shlSp-keeper excepted^on- 
sulted together for a moment in a low voice. 
One of them, spying a grocer’s shop half 
open, entered it; two others separated from 
the group, saying, “ Let us speak to Lebrenn 
and ask his advice ;” and another whispered 
a few words in the ear of the rag-picker, 
who said, “I agree with you; it is just. 
An example is needed. But, meanwhile, 
send Flameche here to help me hold this 
rascal.” 

“ Here, Flameche !” cried a voice, “ come 
and help Father Bribri to hold the robber.” 

Flameche ran thither. He was a true 
type of the Parisian gamin. This child, 
who did not seem more than twelve, though 
in reality he was sixteen, was haggard, 
puny, and emaciated with want. He was 
dressed in a pair of ragged, old, madder trow- 
sers, worn shoes, and a blue shirt almost in 
rags, and was armed with a horse-pistol. 
He came up, hopping and skipping, in fine 
spirits. , 

“ Flameche,” said Father Bribri, “ is your 
pistol loaded ?” 

“ Yes, with two marbles, three nails and 
a huckle-bone ; I have stuffed in my all.” 

That will be enough to feast this gen- 
tleman with if he stirs. Attention, Flam- 
eche, put your finger on the trigger, and the 
barrel inside the fellow’s shirt.” 

“ That is it. Father Bribri,” and Flameche 
dexterously introduced the muzzle of his 
pistol between the robber’s shirt and his 
skin. 

The man started back. 

“ Don’t stir, don’t stir !” cried the boy, 
“ you will set Azor to barking.” 

“ Flameche means his pistol,” added the 
rag-picker, by way of translation. 

“Come, come, you droll fellows,” cried 
the robber, no longer struggling, but begin- 
ning to tremble, although ho strove to 
laugh, “ what do you want of me ? Let 
me off ; the joke has gone far enough.” 

“ Wait a minute, youngster,” replied the 
rag-picker; “let us talk a bit. You asked 
me just now why we rose in insurrection. 

3 


I will tell you. In the first place, it is not 
to break open tills and plunder shops. 
Wretch ! the shop belongs to the shop- 
keeper as much as my hook belongs to 
me. Every one has his trade. We rise, 
youngster, because we are tired of seeing 
old men like me dying of hunger in the 
by-ways, like worn-out dogs when their 
strength is gone; we rise, youngster, be- 
cause we are tired of being told that out of 
a hundred poor girls that walk the streets 
at night, ninety-five have been reduced to it 
by poverty; we rise, my lad, because we are 
tired of seeing thousands of bright lads, 
like Flameche, thrown on the streets of 
Paris, without fire or shelter, father or 
mother — abandoned tj the tender mercies 
of the devil, and exposed to the risk of 
some day becoming thieves and murderers 
like you, youngster, for want of a piece of 
breaa.” 

“ Have no fears of that. Father Bribri,” 
interrupted Flameche, “ I have no. need 
to steal. I help you and the other rag- 
dealers to unload your baskets and sort 
your pickings; I live on the leavings of 
those dogs of aristocrats, and sleep like a 
king in a hole in your heap of rags. Have 
no fears. Father Bribri, I have no need to 
steal. For my part, if I rise, it is because 
I am tired of not being allowed to catch 
gold-fish in the great pond of the Tuileries. 
And I will fish there as much as I like if 
we are conquerors ! Every one to his taste. 
Hurrah for Reform, and down with Louis 
Philippe !” Then, addressing the robber, 
who, on seeing the armed men returning, 
made a motion as if to escape, “ Don’t stir,” 
cried he, “ or I will set Azor on you !” and 
he pressed his finger on the trigger of the 
pistol. 

“But what are you going to do with, 
me ?” exclaimed the robber, turning pale 
at the sight of three workmen preparing 
their arms, while another quitted the 
grocer’s shop with a piece of brown paper 
in his hand, on which something was 
freshly written with a brush and blacking. 
A sinister presentiment flashed across the 
thief’s mind ; he cried, as he struggled to 
release himself, “You accuse me of steal- 
ing; take mo before the Police Commis- 
sioner.” 

“The Commissioner’s daughter is to be 
married to-day,” said Father Bribri ; “ ho 
is at the wedding.” 

“ He has got the toothache ; he is at the 
dentist’s,” added Flameche. 

“ Bring the robber near the lamp,” said a 
voice. 

“ I tell you to take me to the Commis- 
sioner’s,” repeated the wretch, struggling; 
then beginning to shout with all his might, 
“ Help ! help !” 

“ If you know how to read, read this,” 
said a workman, putting the paper before 


34 


THE MYSTERfES OF THE PEOPLE. 


his eyes; “if not, I -will read it for you: 
* Shot as a rohier P ” 

“Shot!” murmured the man, turning 
livid. “ Shot I Pardon ! Help 1 Murder ! 
W atch ! Murder !” 

“ An example is needed for such as you, 
youngster, that you may not dishonor the 
people’s insurrection,” said Father Bribri. 

“ On your knees, villain!” cried a black- 
smith, Avho still wore his leather apron. 
“ Take aim, my friends. On your knees !” 
he repeated to the robber, forcing him 
down on the pavement. 

The wretch fell on his knees, so para- 
lyzed and crushed by fear that he could 
only stretch out his arras, half fainting, 
ana murmur in a dying voice, “ Oh ! forgive 
me ! Not death !” 

“You are afraid,” said the rag-picker. 
“Wait, I will blindfold you.” And, un- 
fastening his bag from his shoulders, he 
almost covered the crouching criminal 
with it, raised him from the ground, and 
quickly retired. 

Three shots were heard. The people’s 
justice was accomplished. A few moments 
after, the corpse of the wretch was swing- 
ing in the night wind, suspended under the 
armpits from the lamp-post, with the 
placard fastened to his clothes : 

Shot as a Robbek! 


CHAPTER X. 

Shortly after the execution of the rob- 
ber, day began to dawn. Suddenly, the 
men placed as sentinels at the corners of 
the streets nearest the barricade, which 
rose almost to the height of Madame Le- 
brenn’s room, fell back, crying, “ To arms!” 
after discharging their guns. The drums, 
which till then had been silent, were in- 
stantly heard to beat the march, and two 
companies of the Municipal Guard, issuing 
from the side street, advanced resolutely to 
carry the barricade, which was instantly 
manned by a crowd of combatants. Le- 
brenn, his son, George Duch§ne, and their 
friends, took their posts and loaded their 
guns. Father Bribri, who was a great 
lover of snuff, and who foresaw that he 
should not have leisure to indulge in his 
favorite luxury, took a huge pinch for the 
last time, and knelt before a sort of loop- 
hole contrived between two paving-stones, 
while Flameche, with pistol in hand, 
climbed like a cat to the top of the barri- 
cade. 

“ Come down, you scapegrace,” cried the 
rag-picker, pulling him by the leg, “and 
don’t show your face, unless you want to 
get peppered.” 

“ Don’t bo afraid. Father Bribri,” answer- 
ed Flameche, twisting himself loose from 


the old man’s grasp ; “ the show is gratis. 
I am going to treat myself to a front box, 
so as to get a good sight of it.” Upon 
which, leaning half-way over the barricade, 
he began to make faces at the Municipal 
Guard, who continued to advance, 

“ These soldiers are our brothers, after 
all,” said Lebrenn to those around him ; 
“ let us try once more to prevent the spill- 
ing of blood.” 

“You are right. Try again,” said the 
blacksmith, clicking his gun-lock; “but 
you will see that it will be lost pains.” 

The linen-draper climbed to the top of 
the heap of paving-stones, where, support- 
ing himself with one hand by his gun, 
while he waved his handkerchief with the 
other, he made signs to the soldiers that 
ho tt^ished to parley with them. The 
drums ceased to beat the charge, and rolled 
out the signal for silence. 

At one of the second-story windows of 
the linen-draper’s house, his wife and 
daughter, half concealed by the blinds 
which they held partly open, stood side by 
side, pale, but calm and resolute, with 
their eyes fixed on Lebrenn — who was talk- 
ing to the soldiers — and his son, who had 
crossed the barricade, with his gun in hand, 
in order to be able to protect his father 
with his body, if necessary. George Du- 
chgne was about to join them, when he felt 
some one pull his blouse. He turned, and 
saw Pradeline, her face flushed, and pant- 
ing from her rapid flight. 

“ Don’t stand there, my child, it is too 
dangerous said the defenders of the barri- 
cade, looking at the young girl with aston- 
ishment, as she strove to force her way 
through them in order to reach George. 

“ You here !” exclaimed George, astound- 
ed at the sight of Pradeline. 

“ 0 George ! listen to me,” answered she, 
in a supplicating tone ; “ I went to your 
house twice yesterday without being able 
to find you. I wrote to you that I would 
come again this morning. I have crossed 
several barricades to see you and tell 
you — ” 

“Go away,” cried George, alarmed for 
her. “ You will be killed. This is no placo 
for you.” 

“I came to do you a service, George. 

She was unable to finish. Lebrenn, after 
parleying in vain with the captain of the 
Municipal Guard, turned round, crying, 
“ They will have war, then war let it be ! 
Wait for their fire, and then return it.” 

The Municipal Guard fired, the insur- 
gents replied, and a cloud of smoke soon 
hung over the barricade. A fire was kept 
up from the neighboring windows and the 
cellar-gratings, and George DuchSne’s old 
grandfather might have been seen at his 
attic-window, discharging a volley of fur- 


THE DRAGOON 

niture, in default of other ammunition, on the 
heads of the Municipal Guard that were 
attacking the barricade behind which his 
grandson was fighting — household and 
ki tchen furniture, tables, chairs— everything, 
in short, that would go through the win- 
dow, was hurled by the good man with 
almost comical fury, until finally, his mis- 
siles oshausted, he flung his cotton night-' 
cap in despair at the troops, then looking 
around him in desperation at having no 
more ammunition, he uttered a cry of tri- 
umph, and began tearing the slates with- 
in his reach from the roof and throw- 
ing them with all his might at the sol- 
diers. 

The attack was begun with spirit; the 
Municipal Guard, after returning the fire 
of their enemies by firing in platoons, in- 
trepidly charged with the bayonet. 
Through the thick white smoke which 
hung over the top of the barricade, several 
groups could be distinguished; in one, Le- 
brenn, after discharging his musket, was 
using it as a club with which to beat back 
the assailants, vigorously seconded by his 
son and George, who kept close by his 
side. From time to time, as they fought, 
the father and son cast rapid glances at the 
half-opened lattice, from which the ex- 
clamations reached their ears, “Courage, 
Marik ; courage, my son ! Courage, father ; 
courage, brother V’ A stray bullet shat- 
tered one of the blinds behind which the 
two lieroic women were standing. Like 
true Gauls, they did not wince, but re- 
mained within sight of their relatives. 
After bravely fighting hand to hand with 
a captain and overthrowing him, as Le- 
brenn rose to his feet, still staggering on 
the tottering stones, a soldier who was 
standing on the top of the barricade within 
reach of the linen-draper, raised his bay- 
onet and was about to transfix him, when 
George threw himself forward to meet the 
blow, and fell, his arm pierced through and 
through. The soldier was about to repeat 
the thrust when his legs were seized by two 
puny hands which clung to him with the 
convulsive force of despair. He lost his bal- 
ance and rolled head foremost to the other 
side of the barricade. George owed his 
life to Pradeline, who, as brave as a lion, 
with disheveled hair and flushed cheek, 
had managed to approach him during 
the conflict. Just as she liad saved him, a 
bullet rebounded and struck the young girl 
in the side. She fell on her knees, fainting, 
and with her last look seeking George, who 
did not suspect the young girPs devotion. 
Father Bribri saw her fall ; he laid down 
his musket, ran to her and raised her 
from the ground, then looking round for a 
place of safety, he espied at the shop-door 
Madame Lebrenn and her daughter, who 
had just come down stairs, and were occu-. 


S HELMET, (fee. 35 

pied, with Gildas and Jeanike, in trans- 
forming the shop into a hospital. 

Gildas was beginning to get accustomed 
to fire. He assisted Father Bribri in carry- 
ing the dying Pradeline to the back shop, 
where Madame liobrenn and her daughter 
administered all the I’elief in their power. 
Just as the rag-picker was quitting the 
shop, he saw at his feet a puny little body, 
dressed in madder trowsers and a ragged 
blue shirt, soaked with blood. “Poor 
Flameche !” cried the old man, stooping to 
pick up the child. “Are you hurt ? It is 
nothing ; courage, my boy I” 

“ Pm done for. Father Bribri,” answered 
the child, in a feeble voice. “ It is a pity; 
I can’t go — to catch gold-fish — in the 
Tuileries.” And he expired. A large tear 
trickled down the rough beard of the rag- 
picker. “ Poor little devil ; he was not 
bad,” said he, with a sigh. “He dies as he 
lived, in the streets of Paris.” Such was 
the end and the funeral oration of Flameche. 

Just as the poor child breathed his last, 
George’s grandfather, in spite of his weak- 
ness, left his room and hastened to the bar- 
ricade. After expending all his ammuni- 
tion, he had watched the tide of battle from 
his window and had seen his grandson fall. 
He sought him among the dead and wound- 
ed with heart-rending cries. 

The resistance of the defenders of the 
barricade was so obstinate that the Muni- 
cipal Guard, after losing a large num- 
ber of men, was forced to fall back in good 
order. The firing had ceased a few mo- 
ments, when a gun-shot was heard in a 
neighboring street, and the tramp of horses 
resounded on the pavement. A colonel of 
dragoons soon appeared in the rear of the 
barricade, followed by several riders, at the 
head of whom he was charging, sword in 
hand, on a band of the insurgents, who 
kept up a running fire in their retreat. It 
was Colonel de Plouernel, who had been 
separated from his regiment by a maneuver 
of the people, and was trying to open a 
way to the barricade, not expecting to find 
the street occupied at this place by the in- 
surgents. 

The combat, a moment suspended, began 
anew. The defenders thought at first that 
this handful of cavalry formed the advance 
guard of a regiment which was about to 
attack them in the rear, and thus to place 
them between two fires if the Municipal 
Guard returned to the charge. The fifteen 
or twenty dragoons commanded by Colonel 
de Plouernel were met by a volley of 
musketry; several of their number fell, 
and the colonel himself was hit; but, with 
his natural intrepidity, he buried his spurs 
in his horse’s flanks, and exclaimed, bran- 
dishing his sword, “ Dragoons, down with 
the rabble !” The animal made a prodigi- 
ous leap and reached the foot of the bar- . 


36 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


ricade ; but there, he stumbled on the loose 
stones and fell. 

M. de Plouernel, though wounded and 
half buried under his horse, defended him- 
self with heroic courage ; his iron arm 
dealt a woimd with each blow of his sword. 
He was about, however, to be overpowered 
by numbers, when, at the peril of his life, 
Lebrenn, aided by his son and George, 
though the latter was wounded, threw him- 
self between the colonel and the assailants, 
who were exasperated by the struggle, and 
succeeded in drawing him from beneath his 
horse and pushing him into the shop. 

“ My friends,’’ ho cried, “ these dragoons 
are alone and unable to resist us • disarm 
them; but let there be no useless carnage, 
they are our brethren.” 

“ Quarter for the soldiers, but death to 
the colonel !” cried the men who had been 
pursued by the dragoons. “ Death to the 
colonel !” 

“Yes, yes,” repeated several voices. 

“ No,” cried the linen-draper, barring the 
door with his musket, Avhile George placed 
himself by his side. “ No, ho ; no carnage 
after battle ; no cowardice !” 

“The colonel shot down my brother at 
yonder street-corner,” shrieked a man with 
blood-shot eyes and frothy lips, brandishing 
a sword. “ Death to the colonel !” 

“ Yes, yes, death, death !” cried several 
threatening voices. 

“ No, you would not kill a wounded 
man! You would not kill an imarmed 
man !” 

“ Death 1 death 1 ” was the reply. 

“ Well, come on. Let us see whether 
yOu have the heart to dishonor the cause of 
the people by a crime.” With these words, 
the linen-draper, although ready to oppose 
this ferocity anew, stood aside, leaving the 
door free. The assailants stood mute, struck 
with his words. The man Avho sought to 
avenge his brother, sprang forward, how- 
ever, Avith a cry of savage joy. lie had 
already reached the threshold of the door, 
when George stopped him, and seizing his 
hands, exclaimed in a voice of deep emo- 
tion, “ Would you avenge yourself by a 
murder ? No, my brother, you are not au 
assassin.” And, Avith tears in his eyes, he 
pressed him to his heart. The voice, ges- 
ture, tone, and expression of George, made 
so lively an impression on the Avould-bo 
avenger, that he hung his head, threw 
away his sword, and, letting himself fall on 
a heap of pa\dng-ston03, buried his face in 
iis hands and murmured through his sobs, 
‘ My brother, my poor brother !” 

The conflict had ceased for some time. 
Sacrovir went in quest of information, and 
'eturned Avith the news that the king and 
he royal family had fled, that the troops 
were fraternizing with the people, that the 
, Jhamber of Deputies was dissolved, and 


that a provisional government Avas estab- 
lished at the Hotel de Villo. The barri- 
cade of the Hue St. Denis, hoAvever, aa^s 
still kept under military guard, and senti- 
nels were posted to provide against fresh 
alarms. The ground was strewn with the 
dead of both parties. The Avounded, both 
of the insurgents and the army, had been 
carried into several shops, which had been 
converted into hospitals, after the example 
of Lebrenu’s. The soldiers were ti’eated 
with the same care as those they had fought 
a few hours before. The Avomen croAvded 
around them, and the only thing to be com- 
plained of Avas the excess of zeal and the 
superabundance of the offers of service. 
Several of the Municipal Guard and an 
ofiicer of dragoons, in the company of 
Colonel de Plouernel, having been made 
prisoners, they were distributed through 
uiflerent houses, from which they were soon 
able to depart, disguised as citizens, arm 
in arm with their adversaries of the morn- 
ing. 

Lebrenn’s shop was overflowing Avith the 
wounded ; one was stretched on the coun- 
ter, the rest on mattresses hastily throAvn 
on the floor. The shop-keeper and his 
family aided several surgeons of the neigh- 
borhood in applying the first dressing to 
the wounds, while Gildas distributed water, 
mixed with wine, to the patients, to cool 
their burning thirst. Among the last, side 
by side on the same mattress, Avero Father 
Bribri and a sergeant of the Municipal 
Guard, an old soldier, with a moustaclie as 
gray as the beard of the rag-picker. Tho 
latter, after deliveri^ng the funeral oration 
of Flameche, had received a ball in the leg, 
during the alarm caused by tho dragoons. 
The sergeant, on his part, had been struck 
in the thigh Avith a ball, at the first attack 
on the barricade. 

“ Confound it, how I suffer !” murmured 
the sergeant, “ and how thirsty I am ; my 
throat is on fire 1” 

Father Bribri heard him, and seeing 
Gildas pass with a bottle of wine and water 
in one hand, and a basket of tumblers in 
the other, he cried, as if he had been in a 
tavern, “Waiter, eh! waiter, some drink 
for this old felloAv; he is thirsty.” 

The sergeant, surprised and touched by 
this attention from his bed-fellow, rejoined, 
“ Thank you, my veteran, I shall not re- 
fuse, for I am choking.” 

Gildas had filled a glass at the call of 
Father Bribri, which he handed to the sol- 
dier. The latter tried to sit up, but it was 
impossible, and he fell back, saying, “ The 
deuce ! I can’t move ; my thigh is bro- 
ken.” 

“Wait, sergeant,” said Father Bribri, 
“ one of my paws is damaged, but my 
arms and thighs are sound.” With these 
words, he raised the soldier with one arm 


37 


THE DRAGOON’S HELMET, Ac. 


till he had finished drinking, then aided 
him to lie down again. 

“ Thank you for your trouble, my veter- 
an,’’ said the soldier. 

“ Don’t speak of it, sergeant.” 

“ Don’t you think, old fellow, that it is 
rather droll that we should be exchanging 
civilities, when two hours ago we were let- 
ting fly at each other ?” 

“ We won’t talk about it ; it is stupid 
work firing at each other.” 

“ The more so, inasmuch as we bear each 
other no ill-will.” 

“ The devil take me if I thought of blam- 
ing you for it, sergeant. Nevertheless, it 
may have been I that broke your thigh, 
while, without bearing the least grudge 
against me, you would have gladly ran a 
bayonet through me ; consequently, I say 
again that it is folly to spit each other with- 
out the least ill-will.” 

“ That is the pure truth.” 

“Then, sergeant, are you so very fond of 
Louis Philippe ?” 

“ I ? I don’t care a farthing for him ; all 
that I care for is to serve my time and re- 
tire. That is my opinion; what is yours, 
old boy ?” 

“ I am for the republic, which will secure 
work and bread to all that need it.” 

“ If that is the case, old fellow, I am for 
it too, for I have a poor brother, burdened 
with a family, who is out of work and suf- 
fering from want. What! is it for that you 
are fighting, my veteran ? Upon my word, 
you are not in the wrong.” 

“Yet it was you, perhaps, that winged 
me just now; but I don’t reproach you for 
it.” 

“ How the deuce could I help it ? Do 
we ever know why we fight? We are ac- 
customed to obey orders; we are com- 
manded to fire, and we fire, without giving 
ourselves much trouble about taking aim 
the first time, it is true. But the answer 
comes, we get warmed up, and then each 
one begins to think of keeping a whole 
skin.” 

“ I believe you.” 

“ When you are hit, or you see a com- 
rade fall, the blood mounts to your head, 
the smell of powder makes you drunk, and 
you end by laying about you in good earn- 
est.” 

“ That is natural.” 

“ It is all the same when you fight at 
your musket’s length, you see ; but when 
once you come hand to hand with the bay- 
onet, and hear the same tongue, as you look 
each other in the eyes, somehow you feci 
your arm give way; it is not as if you were 
fighting a real enemy.” 

“ I understand, sergeant, ; it is because 
you say to yourself, ‘These fellows wish 
for reform and a republic; all right, what 
hai*m do they do me ? And then, do I not 


belong to tlie people as well as they ? 
Have I not relatives and friends too among 
the people ? The chances are a hundred 
to one that I ought to be of their opinion, 
instead of massacring them.’ ” 

“ That is so true, old fellow, that I am for 
the republic as well as you, if it can give 
bread and work to my poor brother, who is 
in want of them.” 

“Which leads me again to say, sergeant, 
that there is nothing more stupid than to 
knock each other over without the least 
notion why.” With these words. Father 
Bribri, taking his old wooden snufT-box 
from his ’^ocket, ofiered it to his compan- 
ion, sayings Will you have a pinch ?” 

“ Upon my word, it is not to be refused ; 
it will clear my brain a little.” Then, 
slowly inhaling the snufi", he exclaimed, 
“Ah! it is delicious !” 

‘‘It is my only luxury,” said Father 
Bribri, taking a pinch in turn. “ I always 
buy it at the Civette.” 

“That is just where my wife buys it for 
me.” 

“So you are married, sergeant? The 
devil ! your poor wife must be dreadfully 
anxious !” 

“ Yes, for she is a good woman. And if 
my wound is not mortal, old fellow, you 
must come some day and take soup with us 
in a friendly way, eh ! and we will crack a 
glass to the memory of the barricade of the 
Rue St. Denis.” 

“ You are very kind, sergeant ; your ofier 
is not to be refused. And as I do not keep 
house, you and your wife must come and 
eat a rabbit stew with me in the suburbs.” 

“ Agreed, old fellow.” 

At the moment when the civilian and the 
soldier were exchanging these civilities, 
Lebrenn, pale, and with tearful eyes, came 
from the back shop which had hitherto | 
remained closed, and said to his wife, who 
was still occupied in taking care of the 
wounded, “ My dear, will you come here a 
moment ?” 

Madame Lebrenn joined her husband, 
and the door of the back shop closed behind 
them. A sad spectacle presented itself to 
the eyes of the linen-draper’s wife. Prad- 
elino was stretched on a sofa, pale and 
dying. George DuchSne, with his arm in 
a sling, was kneeling beside the young girl, 
holding a drink to her lips. At the sight 
of Madame Lebrenn, the poor creature tried 
to smile, and summoning up her strength, 
said, in a feeble voice, “ Madam, I wished to 
see you before dying, to tell you the truth 
about George. I was an orphan, an artifi- 
cial-flower maker. I had suffered great dis- 
tress and great want, but I had remained 
virtuous. I ought to say, that I had never 
been tempted,” she added with a bitter 
smile ; then resumed, “ I met George on his 
return from the army. I fell in love with 


38 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


him — I loved him, oh ! dearly ; he was the 
only one I ever loved, perhaps because he 
never was my lover. I loved him, doubt- 
less, better than he did me ; he was more 
worthy of it; it was through goodness of 
heart that he asked me to be his wife. Un- 
happily, a friend was the cause of my ruin • 
she had been a workwoman, like mo, and 
had sold herself through poverty. I met 
her; she was rich and brilliant; she urged 
me to follow her example ; my head was 
turned, and I forgot George — not long, how- 
ever; but for nothing in the world would 
I have ventured again in his sight. But 
sometimes I came to this street, and lin- 
gered in hopes to catch a glimpse of him. 
I saw him more than once, madam, at work 
in your house. I saw him talking with 
your daughter, who appeared to me as beau- 
tiful as the day. A presentiment told me 
that ho must love her; I watched him, and 
often, lately, have I seen him in the morn- 
ing at his window, gazing at yours. Yes- 
terday I was at some one’s house ;” here a 
faint blush of shame dyed the young girl’s 
cheek, she cast down her eyes, and re- 
sumed, in a voice that grew more and more 
broken, “there I learned by chance that 
this person thought your daughter very 
beautiful, and as this person shrinks from 
nothing, 1 became alarmed for your daugh- 
ter and George. I tried to warn him yes- 
terday, but he was not at home ; I wrote 
to him asking to see him, without explain- 
ing why. This morning I left home — ^with- 
out knowing — about the barricades — and—” 

The young girl was unable to finish ; her 
head fell backward, she mechanically rais- 
ed both hands to her wounded side and 
stammered a few unintelligible words, 
while Lebrenn and his wife wept in silence. 

“ Josephine,” said George, “ do you sufier 
more ? She received lier death-wound while 
attempting to save me,” ho added, brush- 
ing his hand across his eyes. 

“ George,” exclaimed the young girl, 
feebly, with a bewildered air, “ you do not 
know — ” And she attempted to laugh. 
This laugh in the midst of the death-strug- 
gle was heart-rending. 

“ Poor child, you do not know what you 
are saying,” said Madame Lebrenn. 

“ They call me Pradeline,” repeated the 
unhappy creature, deliriously, “ because 1 
am always singing.” 

“ The unfortunate girl ! she is raving,” 
said Lebrenn. 

“ George,” she continued, now quite deli- 
rious, “ ^all I sing for you ?” And with 
her dying voice, she improvised these words 
to her favorite air, 

“ I feel death upon me, 

Well, if it must be — 

Yet is it not early 
To die ” 

She did not finish — her arms stiffened — 


her head fell on her shoulders — she was 
dead ! 

Just at this instant, Gildas opened the 
door commimicating with a staircase that 
led to the next story, and said to the linen- 
draper, “ Sir, the colonel up stairs wishes 
to speak with you directly.” 

Wight had set in. Lebrenn repaired to 
his bed-chamber, to which the colonel had 
been taken through precaution. M. de 
Plouernel had received two slight wounds 
and some severe bruises. He had taken off 
his uniform to facilitate the dressing of his 
wounds. Lebrenn found his guest standing, 
pale and gloomy. 

“ Sir,” said he, “ my wounds are not se- 
vere enough to prevent me from quitting 
your house. I shall never forget your 
generous conduct toward me, a conduct 
doubly praiseworthy after what passed 
between us yesterday. My only wish is to 
be able some day to repay the debt. But 
that will be difiScult, sii*, for we are the con- 
quered and you the conquerors. I was 
blind to the true state of affairs; this sud- 
den revolution has enlightened me. The 
day of the people’s triumph has arrived. 
We have had our time, as you told me 
yesterday ; your turn has come.” 

“ I believe it, sir. Now let me give you 
a word of advice. It would be imprudent 
for you to go out in your uniform; the 
popular excitement is not yet calmed. I 
will give you a paletot and a round hat; by 
the aid of this disguise and accompanied 
by one of my friends, you can reach your 
house in safety.” 

“ It is not to be thought of, sir. Disguise 
myself ! it would be cowardly.” 

“ Excuse me, sir, but these are exagger- 
ated scruples. Are you not conscious of 
having fought bravely to the end ?” 

“ Yes, to be disarmed, disarmed by — 
Interruptmg himself, he stretclied his hand 
to the linen-draper, saying, “ Forgive me, 
sir, I forget that I am conquered. So be it; 
I will follow your advice, and |)ut on a dis- 
guise without thinking myself guilty of cow- 
ardice. A man whose conduct is as worthy 
as yours must be a good judge of honor.” 

In an instant, M. de Plouernel was dressed 
as a citizen, thanks to the clothes lent him 
by the shop-keeper. Then, pointing to his 
battered helmet, by the side of his torn 
uniform, he sai^ “I entreat you, sir, to 
keep my helmet in default of my sword, 
which I would have gladly left you as a 
memento of a soldier whose life you have 
generously saved.” 

“ I accept it, sir,” answered the linen- 
draper ; “ I will add this helmet to two 
other mementoes of your family which are 
in my possession.” 

“ Of my family !” cried M. do Plouernel, 
in amazement ; “ of my family ! Are you 
acquainted with it ?” 


THE DRAGOON’S HELMET, &c. 


39 


“Alas! sir,” replied Lebrenn, with a 
thoughtful aud melaucholy air ; “ it is not 
the first time that a Neroweg de Plouernel 
and a Lebrenn have met with arms in their 
hands.” 

“ What do you say ?” asked the count, 
more and more surprised. “ Explain your- 
self, I entreat you.” 

A knock at the door interrupted the con- 
versation. “ Who is there ?” asked the 
linen-draper. 

“It is I, father.’^ 

“ Come in, my son.” 

“Father,” said Sacrovir, eagerly, “sev- 
eral of our friends are below j they have 
just come from the IlOtel de Ville, and are 
waiting for you.” 

“My child,” replied Lebrenn, “you are 
as well known as I in the street ; I wi.sh 
ou to accompany our guest. Go down the 
ack staircase, so as not to pass through 
the shop.” 

“ Yes, father.” 

“ And do not quit M. de Plouernel till he 
is safely lodged in his own house.” 

“ Bo easy, father ; I have just crossed the 
barricades twice. I will answer for his 
safety.” 

“ Excuse mo for leaving you, sir,” said 
the linen-draper, “ but my friends are wait- 
ing for me.” 

“ Adieu I” replied the colonel, in a voice 
of emotion. “ I know not what the future 
may have in store for us. We may find 
ourselves again in opposite camps ; but I 
swear to you never henceforth to regard 
you as an enemy.” 

M. de Plouernel followed Sacrovir. The 
linen-draper, left alone, gazed for an in- 
•stant at the helmet, and exclaimed, “ Ah ! 
there are strange fatalities 1” He took the 
colonel’s memento, and deposited it in the 
mysterious I’oom which had so warmly ex- 
cited Gildas’s curiosity; then joinecf his 
friends, who informed him that there was 
no longer a doubt that the Republic would 
be proclaimed by the Provisional Govern- 
ment assembled at the Hotel de Ville. 


CHAPTER XI. 

1848—1849. 

After the battle aud the victory comes 
the inauguration of the triumph and the 
glorification of the ashes of the victims ! 

A few days after the overthrow of Louis 
Philippe, at ten o’clock in the morning, 
tho populace crowded the thoroughfares 
leading to the Church of La Madeleine, the 
fagado of which was entirely shrouded 
with heavy black and silver drapery. Ou 
tho front of the monument was inscribed 
the words : “ Tub FRE.\cn Republic — Lib- 


erty, Equality, and Fraternity An im- 
mense throng filled tho boulevards, where 
two rows of high biers stretched from tho 
Bastille to the Place de la Madeleine. Tho 
day was set apart for paying funeral honors 
to the citizens who had fallen in February 
in defense of liberty. A double cordon of 
the National Guard, commanded by tho 
worthy General Courtais, with a veteran in 
the republican cause — the brave Guinard — 
as the second in command, lined both sides 
of the street. Tho people were grave and 
stern, and showed themselves impressed 
with tho consciousness of their new sove- 
reignty, won by the blood of their brethren. 

Tho cannon soon sounded, and tho patri- 
otic notes of tho “ Mai’seillaiso” rose in the 
air. The members of the Provisional Gov- 
ernment arrived, the citizens Dupont (of 
tho Eure), Ledru Rollin, Arago, Louis 
Blanc, Albert, Flocon, Lamartine, Cre- 
mieux, Garnier-Pages, and Marrast. They 
slowly mounted the steps of tho church. 
These citizens, charged witli the destinies 
of France at this epoch, were distinguished 
only by tricolorecf scarfs worn across the 
shoulder. 

In their train, abjuring the royalty which 
they had so long flattered, and sanctioning 
the republic and popular sovereignty by 
the mere fact of their presence at this 
solemn ceremony, came tho great bodies of 
State — the upper magistracy in their crim- 
son robes; the scientific bodies, clad in 
their official costume, and tho marshals and 
generals in full uniform — all going to pray, 
with their lips, if not with their hearts, for 
the memory of those whom the day before 
they had treated Avith lofty disdain as riot- 
ers and ins.-rgents. Enthusiastic shouts of 
“Long live the Republic!” broke forth on 
the passage of these dignitaries, the most 
of whom — always tho courtiers of the 
reigning regime, and at this moment pro- 
fessed converts to republicanism — had 
groAvn old in tho service of the Crown, as 
they had been wont to say. These stern 
cries seemed to remind them of the solem- 
nity of their profession. More than one man 
in a crimson robe or a laced coat, with a 
brow still blanched by the fear of yester- 
day, smiled with an air of constraint, 
more surprised than touched by the grave 
and calm forbearance of the heroic people 
— those people who, by their words, their 
acts, their privations, their pi-otectiou of 
person and property in tho absence of all 
organized public military force, proved, by 
showing themselves so jealous with respect 
to their duties, that they were Avcrtliy of 
tho sovereign rights which they had just 
regained. 

All the windows looking out on the 
Place do la Madeleine were filled Avith 
spectators. On tho ground-floor of the 
shop of one of Lebrenn’s friends were Mad- 


40 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE, 


ame Lebrenn and her daughter, both clad 
in black, together with Lebrenn, Sacrovir, 
Father Morin, and George Duchgne, with 
his arm in a sling. The two latter now 
formed part of the linen-draper’s family ; 
Lebrenn and his wife having given their 
formal consent, two days before, to their 
daughter’s marriage. The beautiful fea- 
tures of Velleda wore an expression of pro- 
found happiness, subdued by the impos- 
ing character of the ceremony, which in- 
spired the whole family with religious 
awe. 

When the funeral procession had entered 
the church and the ^‘Marseillaise” had 
ceased, Lebrenn exclaimed, his eyes moist 
with emotion, “ Oh ! this is a great day ; it is 
the inauguration of our republic, free from 
all excess, proscription, and stains. Clement 
in its strength and right, and fraternal like 
its symbol, its first thought has been to 
overthrow the political scaffold — that scaf- 
fold which, had it been conquered, it would 
have watered with its purest and most 
glorious blood. See, loyal and generous, it 
now invites to a solemn compact of forget- 
fulness, pardon and concord, sworn on the 
ashes of these last martyrs to our liberties, 
those magistrates and generals but lately 
the implacable foes of the republicans, 
whom they pursued with the sword of the 
law and of the army. Oh ! it is glorious and 
noble thus to extend a friendly and peace- 
ful hand to our foes of yesterday !” 

“My children,” said Madame Lebrenn, 
“ let us hope and believe that these mar- 
tyrs to liberty, whose ashes we honor to- 
day, will be the last victims to royalty !” 

“ Oh, yes, for liberty is everywhere awak- 
ening,” cried Sacrovir, with enthusiasm. 
“ Revolutions are breaking out at Vienna, 
Milan and Berlin. Each day brings the 
news that the republican thunders in 
France are shaking all the thrones of Eu- 
rope. There is an end, at last, to kings !” 

“ An army on the Rhine, another on the 
frontiers of Piedmont, to march to the aid of 
our brethren of Europe, should they need 
us, and republicanism will put a girdle 
round the world !” said George DuchSne. 
“ Then there will be no more war. Is it not 
so, M. Lebrenn ? Then we shall have 
union, fraternity of nations, universal peace, 
industry, work and happiness for all. 
There will be no more insurrections, for 
the peaceful conflict of universal suffrage 
will henceforth take the place of these 
fratricidal struggles, in which so many of 
our brethren have perished.” 

“ Oh !” cried Velleda, whose eyes had fol- 
lowed her betrothed as he spoke, “ how 
happy we are in living in these times ! 
"What great and noble things wo shall be 
hold ! Shall we not, father ?” 

“ To doubt it, my children, would bo to 
doubt the continual onward march of hu- 


manity,” answered Lebrenn. “ And hu- 
manity never goes backward.” 

“ May God hear you, M. Lebrenn,” cried 
Father Morin. “ Old as I am, I shall have 
my humble share in this glorious spec- 
tacle. But it is greedy in me to desire it,” 
added the good man, looking tenderly at 
Velleda. “ What more ought I to wish for, 
now that I see this good and beautiful 
young lady about to become my grandson’s 
wife ; now that he is adopted into this ex- 
cellent family, in which the daughter is 
worthy of her mother and the son of his 
father ? Ah ! when a man of my age has 
lived to see all this, he has nothing more to 
wish for, and can depart with a contented 
heart.” 

“Would you depart, good father,” said 
Madame Lebrenn, taking the old man’s 
trembling hand, “ and leave those who love 
you ?” 

“ And who feel themselves doubly hap- 
py,” added Velleda, taking the other hand 
of the old man, “ in knowing that you wit- 
ness their happiness.” 

“ And who hope long to honor industry, 
courage and uprightness in you. Father 
Morin,” added Sacrovir, with an air of re- 
spectful deference ; while the old man, more 
and more affected, buried his face in his 
trembling hands. 

“ ViThat ! do you fancy that you are not 
our grandfather too ?” said Lebrenn, smil- 
ing. “ Do you think that you do not be- 
long to us too, now, as well as to our dear 
George ? As if our affections were not his, 
and his ours !” 

“ Oh heaven !” cried the old man, his eyes 
overflowing with tears of delight, “what 
can I say ? It is too much — too much • I 
can only thank you by my tears. George, 
you know how to talk — speak for me.” 

“ That is very easy for you to say, grand- 
father,” answered George, not less affected 
than the old man. 

“ Father, look ! look !” cried Sacrovir, 
advancing toward the window. “Oh! brave 
and generous people I” he added with en- 
thusiasm. 

At the voice of the youth, all ran to the 
window. In the street, which had been 
cleared for the passage of the funeral train, 
marched a long procession of workingmen, 
carding upon their shoulders a sort of 
buckler, trimmed with ribbons, in the midst 
of which was placed a wooden contribu- 
tion-box; a flag followed, bearing the in- 
scription, “ Long live the Republic ! Liberty, 
Equality, and Fraternity. Our Offering 
TO THE Country.” The multitude cheered, 
shouting “ Long live the Republic I” 

“ Oh r I know them well 1” cried the 
linen-draper, his eyes wet with tears. 
“ They are the laborers ; those who uttered 
that sublime saying, ‘ We have three months 
1 of a wretched life at the service of the Re- 


THE DRAGOON’S HELMET, &c. 


41 


public those poor men who are the first to 
suffer in hard times. Yet they are the first 
to ofter the country the little they possess • 
half of their morrow’s broad, perhaps.” 

“ And shall not these unfortunates, who 
set such an example to the rich and happy 
of the day — shall not these men, who show 
such generosity, heart, resignation, and 
patriotism, at last be released from their 
serfdom ?” cried Madame Lebrenn. “ Shall 
their intelligence and hard labor always be 
barren to themselves alone ? To them 
shall a family always be anguish — the 
present, privation — the future, tferror, and 
property, a tantalizing dream ? No, no, 
God is just! Those who triumph so nobly 
have finally climbed their Calvary ! Their 
day of justice has come. i\jid I say, with 
your father, my children, this is a great 
and glorious day; a day of equity, a day of 
justice, unpolluted by revenge I” 

“ And these sacred words are the symbol 
of the deliverance of the working classes,” 
said Lebrenn, pointing to the inscription on 
the temple of Christ — Liberty^ Equality, 
and Fraternity / 


Nearly eighteen months after this day, 
so imposing through this religious ceremo- 
nial, and so rich in the magnificent hopes 
which it gave to France, we again meet 
the Lebrenn family. 

It was the first of September, 1849. The 
dinner-hour had struck in the galleys at 
Rochefort, and the convicts were at their 
repast. One of the galley-slaves, dressed 
like the rest, in a red jacket and cap, and 
wearing on his ankle an iron ring riveted 
to a heavy chain, was seated on a stone, 
munching his black bread with a thought- 
ful air. 

This convict was Lebrenn. He had been 
condemned to the galleys by a court-mar- 
tial, after the insurrection of June, 1848. 
The features of the shop-keeper wore their 
usual expression of serene firmness; his 
face, however, exposed, through his hard 
labor, to the scorching rays of the sun, had 
become almost the color of a brick. 

A keeper, with a sword at his side and 
a stick in his hand, after passing through 
several groups of convicts, stopped, as if 
looking for some one, and cried, waving his 
stick in the direction of Lebrenn, “Say, 
you, there 1 Number Eleven-hundred-and- 
twenty !” 

The shop-keeper paid no attention, but 
continued to munch his bread with a good 
appetite. 

“ Number Eleven-hundred-and-twenty — 
don’t you hear me, rascal?” cried the 
keeper anew. 

Lebrenn still remained silent. The keeper, 
swearing at being obliged to walk a few 
steps farther, burned to the linen-draper, 
and touching him with the end of his stick. 


Said to him roughly, “ Curse you, are you 
deaf? Why don’t you answer, brute that 
you are?” 

On feeling the touch of the stick,- Lebrenn 
looked up angrily; then, quickly suppress- 
ing this impulse of indignation, he answered 
calmly, “ What do vou want ?” 

“This is twice tliat I have called you, 
Eleven-hundred-and-twenty, without receiv- 
ing an answer. Do you want to make me 
angry ? Take care !” 

“Come, there is no need of being brutal,” 
replied Lebrenn, shrugging his shoulders. 
“ I did not answer you, because I have not 
yet lost the liabit of hearing myself called 
by my name, and always forget that I 
am nothing now but Eleven-hundred-and- 
twenty.” 

“I want no more of your reasons. Come, 
you are to go before the commissioner.” 

“ For what?” 

“ That is none of your business. Come, 
march, and that quickly.” 

“ I am ready,” said Lebrenn, with imper- 
turbable calmness. 

The keeper, followed by the convict, 
crossed part of the docks, and arrived at 
the office of the commissioner intrusted 
with the charge of the galleys. 

“Tell the commissioner that I have 
brought him Number Eleven-hundred-and- 
twenty,” said he to one of his comrades in 
waiting. 

In a few moments the servant returned, 
and telling the shop-keeper to follow him, 
led him through a long corridor; then, 
opening the door of a richly-furnished 
room, Md him go in and wait. 

“ What !” said Lebrenn, in great surprise; 
“ do you leave me alone ?” 

“ It is by the commissionei*’s orders.” 

“ The devil !” said Lebrenn, smiling ; “ I 
am highly flattered by such a mark of con- 
fidence.” 

The servant left the room, closing the 
door after him. 

“ Really,” said the shop-keeper, spying a 
luxurious easy-chair, “ here is a fine chance 
to sit on something besides a stone or the 
benches of the galleys. An easy-chair is 
certainly a very comfortable thing,” he 
added, settling himself among the soft 
cushions. A door opened at this moment, 
and a man of toll stature, in the undress 
uniform of a brigadier-general — a blue 
coat with silver stars, and red trowsers — 
entered the room. At the sight of the offi- 
cer, Lebrenn threw himself back in his 
chair, exclaiming, “ M. de Plouernel !” 

“ Who has not forgotten the night of the 
23d of February,” answered the general, 
advancing, with outstretched hand, toward 
Lebrenn, who took it, gazing thoughtfully 
at the two silver stars that ornamented M. 
de Plouernel’s gold epaulettes, and said, 
with a sort of ironical good-nature; 


42 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


“ You have become a general in the serv- 
ice of the Republic, 'svhilo I am in the 
galleys ! Confess, sir, that this is a curious 
freak of fortune !” 

M. de Plouernel looked at the shop- 
keeper with amazement; he had expected 
to find him either deeply dejected or vio- 
lently incensed, and he saw him calm, 
satirical, aud smiling. 

“Well, sir,” resumed Lebrenn, still seat- 
ed, while the general stood gazing at him 
with increasing amazement, some eighteen 
months ago — at the time of that evening 
which you are good enough to remember — 
who would have thought that we should 
find ourselves in the respective positions in 
which we stand to-day 

“ Such firmness of soul is heroism!” ex- 
claimed M. de Plouernel, forced to render 
homage to the truth. 

“ Not at all, sir ; it simply comes from a 
good conscience and confidence in the 
future.” 

“ Confidence in the future ?” 

“Yes. I am calm, because I have faith 
in the cause to which I have devoted my 
life, and because I have nothing for which 
to reproach my conscience.” 

“ Yet — ^you are here.” 

“ I pity the error of my judges.” 

“You, the soul of honor, in the garb of 
infamy !” 

“ Bah 1 That does not hurt me.” 

“ Away from your wife and children 1” 

“ They are often hero with mo as I am 
with them. The body is chained and sepa- 
rated from them, but the soul laughs at let- 
ters and space.” Then, suddenly breaking 
off, Lebrenn added, “ But pray, tell me, sir, 
by what chance do I see you hero ? The 
Commissioner of the Galleys has sent for 
me ; was it only to afford me the pleasure 
of receiving your visit ?” 

“You judge me wrongly,” replied the 
general, “ if you think that, after owing my 
life to you, I come hero through a feeling 
of idle or impertinent curiosity.” 

“ I do not insult you by such a thought, 
sir. Doubtless, you are on a tour of in- 
spection ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And having learned that I was hero in 
the galleys, you come, perhaps, to offer mo 
your good services ?” 

“ Better than that.” 

“ Better than that 1” Explain yourself, I 
entreat you. You seem embarrassed.” 

“ Indeed, I am so, and greatly,” replied 
the general, evidently put out of countenance 
by the coolness and ease of the convict. 
“Revolutions often bring about such strange 
events — ’’ 

“ Such strange events ?” 

“ Yes, such as the position in which we 
find each other to-day.” 

“ Oh I wo have already exhausted the 


subject of this apparent incongruity^ of 
fate,” rejoined the shop-keeper, smiling. 
“ That, under the Republic, I, an old re- 
publican, sliould bo in the galleys, while 
you — a republican of a little later date — 
should have become a general, is, indeed, 
somewhat strange: that we have agreed 
But what then ?” 

“ IMy embarrassment springs from a dif- 
ferent cause.” 

“ VYhat ?” 

“ I have asked — replied M. de Plouer- 
nel, hesitatingly. 

“ You have asked for what, sir ?” 

“ Aud obtained — 

“My pardon, perhaps,” exclaimed Le- 
brenn. “That is delightful !” 

There was such bitter ludicrousness in this 
incident of political manners and customs, 
that the shop-keeper could not help laugh- 
ing. 

“Yes,” returned the general, “I have 
asked for your pardon, and obtained it. 
You are free. I held it a point of honor to 
come in person to bring you the news,” 

“ One word of explanation, if you please, 
sir,” returned the shop-keeper, with dig- 
nity. “ I do not accept a pardon, but I 
accept an act of reparatory, although 
tardy justice.” 

“ What do you mean ?” 

“ If, at the time of the fatal insurrection 
of June, I had shared the opinions of my 
brethren who are hero in tho galleys with 
mo, I should not accept a pardon; after 
acting with them, I should remain here 
with them.” 

“ But your condemnation — ” 

“Was unjust, sir, as I will prove to you 
in a few words. At tho time of tho Juno 
outbreak last year, I held tho rank of cap- 
tain in my legion, and appeared unarmed 
at tho summons of tho National Guard. 
There, I declared openly and publicly that 
I would march unarmed at tho head of my 
company, not to engage in a bloody 
struggle, but with tho hopo of sootliing 
our brethren, who, exasperated by want, a 
deplorable misunderstanding, and, above 
all, repeated deceptions, should not, how- 
ever, have forgotten that the sovereignty of 
tho people is inviolable, and that so long as 
the power which represents it has not been 
legally brought to trial and convicted of 
treason, to rebel against this power, and to 
attack it by armed force instead of over- 
throwing it by tho expression of universal 
suffrage, is to commit suicide aud to attack 
their own sovereignty. Half of my com- 
pany agreed with mo and followed my ex- 
ample; and, while other citizens were ac- 
cusing us of treason, wo, bareheaded and 
unarmed, were advancing with outstretched 
arms toward tho first barricade, the guns 
of whicli were aimed at our approach. 
Friendly hands already met our grasp; 


THE DRAGOON 

our voice was heard; our brethren were 
already beginning to comprehend that, 
however justifiable were their grievances, 
an insurrection would be the temporary 
triumph of the enemies of the Republic — 
when a shower of bullets rained upon the 
barricade behind which we were parleying. 
Doubtless ignorant of this circumstance, a 
battalion of troops had attacked the posi- 
tion. Taken by surprise, the insurgents 
defended themselves like heroes; the 
greater part were killed — a few were taken 
prisoners. I and several of my company 
being confounded among them, were ar- 
rested and held as rebels. If I did not 
go mad with horror, like several of my 
friends who were prisoners with mo in the 
vaults of the Tuileries for three days and 
nights, it is because I was with my wife 
and children in thought. Indicted before 
a court-martial, I told the truth, but was 
not believed. Doubtless, some petty local 
jealousy — some base accusation brought by 
malicious neighbors — aggravated my pun- 
ishment, and I was sent here. You see 
now, sir, that it is not a pardon, but a tardy 
act of justice that is accorded mo ; which 
does not prevent me, however, from thank- 
ing you kindly for all that you have done 
for me. Then I am free 

“ The Commissioner of the Marine is on 
his way to confirm what I tell you. You 
can quit this place to-day, this very mo- 
ment, even.”' 

“ Well, sir, since you are so high in favor 
at the republican court,” returned Lebrenu, 
smiling, “ bo kind enough to ask a boon 
from the commissioner which he might per- 
haps refuse me.” 

“ I shall be happy to do anything in my 
power.” 

“ You see this iron ring which I wear on 
my leg, fastened to a chain ; I should bo 
glad to carry it away with me — paying for 
it, of course.” 

“ That ring ! What can jrou want of it ?” 

“ It is simply the mania of a collector, 
sir. I already possess a few little historical 
curiosities; among others the helmet which 
you did me tho honor to bestow on me 
eighteen months ago. I wish to add to 
them tho iron ring of the political convict. 
You see, sir, that to mo ana my family, this 
relic will be of great significance.” 

“ Nothing will be easier, I think, than to 
gratify your desire, of which I will inform 
the commissioner. But alloAv mo to ask 
you a question, which may, however, be in- 
discreet.” 

“ What is it, sir ?” 

“ I remember that eighteen months ago — 
and I have often since thought of it — ^when 
I entreated you to keep my helmet in 
memory of your generous conduct toward 
me, you replied — ” 

“ I'hat this would not bo the only thing , 


’S HELMET, &c. 43 

coming from your family that I possessed — 
it was the truth.” 

“You also told me, sir, I believe, that 
the Neroweg de Plouernels — ” 

“ Ilad sometimes, in tho course of ages 
and events, encountered several members of 
my obscure family — slaves, serfs, vassals or 
plebeians,” returned Lebrenn. “ It is also 
true.” 

‘ On what occasion and in what circum- 
stances ? And how came you informed of 
what took place so many centuries ago ?” 

“ Permit me to keep my secret, and ex- 
cuse me for having inconsiderately awaken- 
ed in you a curiosity that I cannot satisfy. 
Under the impression of thatday of civil war 
and the strange fatality which had brought 
you and me face to face, an allusion to the 
past escaped me. I regret it, for, I repeat 
to you, there are certain family recollec- 
tions which should never go beyond our 
own hearth.” 

“ I will no longer insist,” said M. do 
Plouernel; then, after a moment’s hesita- 
tion, he added, “ One word more, sir. I 
have another question to ask, which may 
also be indiscreet.” 

“ What is it?” 

“ What do you think of me, on seeing 
me serve the Republic ?” 

“ Such a question, sir, demands a perfect- 
ly candid answer.” 

“ I am convinced that you could give me 
no other.” 

“ Well, you do not believe in tho duration 
of the Republic; you design to make use of 
tho power with which you, together with 
■so many other perjured royalists, are intrust- 
ed by the government, to secure the future 
triumph of your party. You hope, in short, 
at tho proper moment, to avail yourself of 
your position in the aray to favor the re- 
turn of your master, as I believe you call 
that fat lad, the last of the Capets and 
Frankish kings by right of conquest. The 
Bonaparte government puts arms into your 
hands against the Republic, you accept 
them; in your sight, all stratagems are fair 
in war.” 

“ And in yours ?” 

“ I would not do it. I hate the monarchy 
for the frightful evils which it has heaped 
for many centuries on my country, where it 
established itself as a conqueror by violence, 
robbery and murder. Yes, I hate it, I have 
combated it with all my might, but never 
would I have served it with the design of 
destroying it, never would I have borne its 
livery or its colors.” 

“ I do not wear tho livery of the Repub- 
lic, sir!” cried M. de Plouernel, eagerly, 
“I wear tho uniform of the French army!” 

“ Come, sir,” replied Lebrenn, smiling, 
“ without meaning to reproach you, confess 
that what you said just now is a little 
Jesuitical for a soldier. But let it pass ; 


44 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


every one serves his cause in his own 
fashion,’^ 

The entrance of the Commissioner of 
Marine put an end to the conversation of 
the general and the shop-keeper. The lat- 
ter easily obtained permission, through the 
mediation of his protector, to carry away his 
iron ring. The same evening Lebrenn set 
out for Paris. 


CHAPTER XII. 

On the 18th of September, 1849, two days 
after General de Plouernel had brought 
Lebrenn his full and complete pardon, the 
family of the linen-draper was assembled 
in the modest drawing-room. The shop had 
been closed about an hour before. A lamp, 
placed on a large center-table, threw its 
light on the persons seated around it. Mad- 
ame Lebrenn was occupied with the books 
of the establishment; her daughter, dressed 
in mourning, was gently lulling a sleeping 
infant on her lap, while George Duchene, in 
mourning, like his wife, for Father Morin, 
who had died a few months before, was 
drawing the plan of a wainscot ; for since 
his marriage, by his father-in-law’s desire, 
he had opened a large joiner’s shop, on the 
principle of joint profits, in a building 
close by Lebrenn’s house. Sacrovir Lebrenn 
was reading a treatise on the application of 
machinery to the weaving of linen, and 
taking notes from time to time from the 
book. J eanike was hemming n apkins, while 
Gildas was seated before a little table full 
of linen, folding and ticketing various arti- 
cles to be displayed in the shop-window. 

Madame Lebtenn’s face was sad and 
thoughtful; such, doubtless, would have 
also been the expression of that of her 
daughter, then in the full lustre of her 
beauty, had not a smile been called forth at 
that moment by the crowing of the waking 
babe. George, for an instant attracted 
from his work by this infantile laughter, 
gazed at the maternal group with inex- 
pressible delight. It might have been 
vaguely felt that some continual sorrow 
was hanging over this loving family; indeed, 
there was not a moment when they did not 
remember, with bitterness, that their beloved 
and venerated head was missing. 

We will explain in a few words why 
Lebrenn’s son and son-in-law had not fol- 
lowed his example at the time of the in- 
surrection of June," 1848, and consequently 
shared his fate. In the beginning of that 
month, Madame Lebrenn had gone to Brit- 
tany to purchase goods, and to visit some 
of her relatives, accompanied by her 
daughter and son-in-law, then newly mar- 
ried and on their bridal tour. Sacrovir 
Lebrenn, for his part, had gone to Lille, to 


transact some business for his father. He 
was to have returned before his mother’s 
departure, but he was detained by some 
matters, and did not learn till he reached 
Paris that his father had been arrested and 
imprisoned, as an insurgent, in the Castle 
of Vanvre. 

At this distressing news, Madame Le- 
brenn and her children returned in haste 
from Brittany. It is needless to say that, 
while in prison, Lebrenn received all the 
consolation which the tenderness and devo- 
tion of his family could offer him. Ilis 
sentence pronounced, his wife and children 
wished to follow him to Rochefort, and to 
settle there, in order, at least, to live in the 
same city with him and to see him often ; 
but he strongly opposed this resolution as 
contrary to the convenience and interests of 
the family. Ilis chief argument against a 
troublesome and disastrous removal was — 
and here his excellent judgment was mis- 
taken — his full faith in a speedy general 
amnesty, and he induced his family to share 
the belief. They needed and wished to be- 
lieve it too much to reject the hope. 
Days, weeks, and months passed by, there- 
fore, in vain but constantly renewed ex- 
pectation. Every day, the condemned man 
received a long joint letter from his wife 
and children, to which he daily replied ; 
and, thanks to these frequent outpourings of 
the heart, as well as to the courage and 
serenity of his resolute character, he un- 
falteringly endured the terrible trial of 
which we are about to witness tlie end. 

The family of the linen-draper was seat- 
ed in silence around the center-table. 
Madame Lebrenn ceased writing for a mo- 
ment and leaned her forehead on one hand, 
while the other, which held the pen, re- 
mained motionless. George Duchene, see- 
ing his mother-in-law’s pre-occupation, made 
a sign to Velleda. Both gazed at her for a 
few moments, and her daughter at length 
said, “Mother you seem restless and anx- 
ious.” 

“For nearly thirteen months, this is the 
first day that we have had no letter from 
your father.” 

“ If he had been sick and unable to write 
to you,” said George, “he would have found 
some one else to do it, rather than render 
you uneasy by his silence. It is most like- 
ly, therefore, as we said just now, that his 
letter has, for the first time, met some de- 
lay.” 

“George is right, mother,” added Vel- 
leda ; “ you must not be alarmed.” 

“ And then, who knows ?” said Sacrovir, 
bitterly. “The police regulations are so 
strange and despotic that they may even 
have deprived my father of his last conso- 
lation. Those men who govern us show 
such hatred to the republicans. Oh ! we 
live in sad times.” 


THE DRAGOON’S HELMET, &c. 45 


“ After dreaming of such a glorious fu- 
ture, to see it so gloomy and almost des- 
perate \" exclaimed George, sighing, “ M. 
Lebrenn — ho, he treated thus ! Ah ! it is 
enough to make us believe that the tri- 
umph of honest men is never anything but 
an accident.'^ 

“ Oh, brother, brother ! I feel a terrible 
storm of revenge and hatred aroused with- 
in me V’ said Sacrovir, gloomily. “ Could 
I but have one day — a single day — in 
which to do justice, my whole life might 
be spent in torture.” 

“Patience, brother, patience!” said 
George. “ Every one must have his day.” 

“ My children,” resumed Madame Lebrenn, 
in a grave and melancholy voice, “you 
speak of justice — do not mix with it thoughts 
of hatred and revenge. Your father, if he 
were here — and he is always with us — would 
tell you that he who has right on his side 
does not cherish hatred or seek revenge. 
Hatred and revenge make men mad; as 
they can testify who persecute your father 
and his party so implacably. Despise them, 
pity them, but do not imitate them.” 

“ Yet to see what we see,” exclaimed 
Sacrovir ; “ to think that my father, a man 
of tried honor, courage and patriotism, is 
at this moment in the galleys, that ho is 
left there, and that our enemies feel a 
savage joy in knowing it!” 

“ IIow does this aS’ect your father’s honor, 
courage and patriotism, my children ? Is 
it in the power of any mortal to brand what 
is pure, to degrade what is great, or to 
make an honest man a convict ? Do you 
believe thatyour father, unjustly condemned, 
will be less honored by the mark of the 
convict’s chain than 1^ the scars that he 
received in 1830 ? When justice is done 
him, will he not quit the galleys more be- 
loved and venerated than ever ? What 
do these persecutions prove, my children ? 
They prove only that hatred and revenge 
may become even more absurd than they 
are detestable ; and we should feel naught 
but disgust and pity for what is detestable 
and absurd. Ah ! my children, mourn your 
father’s absence, but remember that each 
day leaves him greater and more honored.” 

“ You are right, mother,” replied Sacro- 
vir, sighing. “ Thoughts of hatred and re- 
venge harm the soul.” 

“ Poor father !” said Velleda, sadly, “ he 
looked forward to to-morrow with such im- 
patience !” 

“ To-inorrow ! and why ?” asked George. 

“ To-morrow is my son’s birthday,” an- 
swered Madame Lebrenn. “To-morrow, the 
eleventh of September, he will be twenty- 
one, and for several reasons, this was to 
have been a family festival.” 

She had scarcely uttered the words when 
a knock was heard at the door. 

“ W'ho can have come at this hour ? it is 


almost midnight,” said Madame Lebrenn. 

“ See who it is, Jeanike.” 

“ I will go, madam,” cried Gildas, brave- 
ly, rising. “ There may be some danger.” 

“ I do not think so ; but go and see,” re- 
turned Madame Lebrenn. 

In a moment, Gildas returned with a let- 
ter, which he gave to Madame Lebrenn, 
saying, “ A messenger brought this, ma- 
dam. No answer is needed.” 

Scarcely had the linen-draper’s wife cast 
her eyes on the envelope, when she cried, 

“ My children, it is a letter from your 
father!” George, Sacrovir, and Velleda 
rose simultaneously and crowded round 
their mother. “ It is singular,” she resumed, 
anxiously examining the letter which she 
was unsealing. “This letter must have 
come from Rochefort, yet there is no post- 
mark on it.” 

“ It may have been sent by some one 
coming from Rochefort,” remarked George. 

“ And this has been the cause of the delay,” 
added Sacrovir. “ It is quite likely.” 

Madame Lebrenn anxiously hastened to 
read the following letter : 

“My dear and loving Wife ; 

Kiss our children in the name of a 
piece of good news wliich will surprise and 
delight you. I hope to see you shortly — ” 

Madame Lebrenn had scarcely uttered 
these words when it was impossible for her to 
continue her reading. Iler children threw 
themselves on her neck with exclamations 
of joy which it would be impossible to re- 
peat, while Jeanike and Gilclas shared the 
emotions of the family. 

“ My poor children, be reasonable ; let us 
not rejoice too soon,” said Madame Le- 
brenn. “ It is only a hope that your father 
holds out to us, and God knows how often 
our hopes of an amnesty have been deceiv-** 
ed.” 

“Then go on, mother — read quickly — 
finish,” cried the children, impatiently. 

“ Let us see whether this hope is well- 
founded.” 

Madame Lebrenn continued her hus- 
band’s letter : “ I hope to see you soon, 
sooner even than you can imagine.” 

“ Do jrou see, mother, do you see !” said 
the children with trembling voices, and 
hands clasped as though in prayer, “ Finish, 
finish !” 

“ 0 God ! can it be possible ! We shall 
soon see him !” said Madame Lebrenn, wip- 
ing away the tears that dimmed her sight. 
She continued, “ When I say hope, my dear 
wife, I mean more, it is a certainty. I should 
have commenced my letter by giving you 
this assurance; but, though I knew your 
strength of mind, I was afraid of hurting 
you and our children by too sudden a sur- 
prise. You are, therefore, already familiar 
with the idea of seeing me soon, very soon, 


46 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


are you not ? I can therefore promise 
you — ’’ 

“ Butj mother ” interrupted George, “ he 
must he in Paris.’’ 

“ In Paris !” cried all with one voice. 

“ The letter is not postmarked,” continued 
George. “He has arrived; he has sent it 
by a messenger.” 

“ There is no more doubt— George is right,” 
said Madame Lebrenn, hastily finishing the 
letter : “ I can therefore promise you, that 
we will keep Sacrovir’s birthday together. 
This day begins at midnight; I shall there- 
fore bo with you at midnight, and perhaps 
before ; for as soon as the messenger comes 
down, I shall mount the steps and wait — 
yes, I shall wait at the door, close by you.” 

The words were scarcely uttered, when 
Madame Lebrenn and her children rushed 
to tlie door. She opened it. Lebrenn was 
really there. 

It is impossible to depict the transports 
of the family on meeting their worshiped 
father. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

On the morning after Lebrenn’s return, 
the anniversary of the birtli of his son, Avho 
that day attained his twenty-first year, the 
family of the linen-draper assembled in the 
drawing-room. 

“My child,” said Lebrenn to his son, 
“you are to-day twenty-one years of ago; 
the moment has come for you to open that 
chamber whose closed shutters have so 
often excited your curiosity. You shall see 
what it contains, and I will explain to 
you the end and cause of this mystery, 
when, I am convinced, your curiosity will 
be transformed into pious respect. One 
word more; the moment of initiating you 
into these family mysteries seems provi- 
dentially chosen, ^iince yesterday, aban- 
doned wholly as we have been to our afiec- 
tion, wo have had little time to talk of 
public affairs, yet some words that have 
fallen from you, as well as from you, my 
dear George,” added Lebrenn, addressing 
his son-in-law, “ make mo fear that you are 
discouraged, and almost despairing.” 

“ It is only too true,” answered fcJacrovir. 

“ The sight of what is passing among us, 
daily,is enough to make us tremble for the 
future of the Republic and humanity, when 
we see Louis Bonaparte, the Chief Magis- 
trate of the Republic, coolly calling upon 
us to pay honors to the memory of his 
uncle, one of the most odious despots that 
ever oppressed France, which he ruined, 
depopulated, and twice made a prey to in- 
vasion and the Bourbons,” added George. 

“ Yes, it might be, if the progress of hu- 
manity did not unceasingly pursue its on- 


ward march, in spite of the unbelief, blind- 
ness, weakness, treachery, and crimes of 
men.” 

“ What ! does humanity progress unceas- 
ingly ?” 

“ Unceasingly, my children.” 

“But, many centuries ago, our fathers, 
the Gauls, lived free and happy, yet they 
were despoiled and subjugated; first by 
the Romans, then by the Franks. Was this 
progress ?” 

“ I did not say, my son, that our fathers 
did not suffer, but that humanity advanced. 
The last sons of an ancient Avorld, which 
was crumbling on all sides to make way 
for the Christian world — an immense prog- 
ress — our fathers were crushed and muti- 
lated by the falling ruins of antiquity; but, 
at the same time, a great social transforma- 
tion was wrought, for, I repeat to you, 
humanity alwa^'^s advances ; sometimes, 
slowly, yet never does it take a step back- 
ward.” 

“ I belieA^e you, father'; nevertheless — ” 

“You still doubt in spite of yourself. 
I understand this. Happily, the teachings, 
proofs, dates, facts, and names, which you 
will find in the mysterious chamber, will 
convince you better than my words. And 
when you sec, my friends, that in the most 
fearful times of our history — almost always 
brouglit upon our country by the kings, 
nobles, and higher clergy — when you see 
that wo, the conquered, began with slavery, 
and progressed through the ages to the 
sovereignty of the people, you will ask 
whether it Avould not bo criminal in us to 
doubt the future. Doubt the future ? 0 
heaven ! our fathers never doubted it, de- 
spite their martyrdom ; and for this reasqn 
there Avas not an age in Avhich they dio. 
not advance a step toward freedom. Alas ! 
this step was almost ahvays stained with 
blood; for, if our masters, the conquerors, 
shoAved themselves implacable, you Avill see 
that there was not an age that terrible re- 
prisals did not break out against them, to 
satisfy the justice of God. Yes, you will 
see that there Avas not an age that the 
frieze jacket did not rebel against the 
golden casque — that the scythe of the hus- 
bandman did not cross the lance ^f the 
knight — that the horny hand of the vassal 
did not crush the soft palm of some tyi’an- 
nous bishop. You will see, my children, 
that there Avas not an ago that the infa- 
mous debauchery, robbery, and fei’ocity of 
the kings, and of the majority of tho nobles 
and higher clergy, did not rouse tho people 
to revolt, and that they did not protest by 
armed force against the tyranny of the 
throne, tho nobility, and tho popes. You 
will see that there was not an age that the 
famine-stricken, rising up as inexorable as 
hunger, did not strike tho gorged Avith ter- 
ror — not an age that had not its Belshaz- 


47 


THE DRAGOON’S HELMET, &o. 


ear’s feast, buried, -vritb its golden cups, 
flowers, songs, and splendor, under the 
avenging flood of some popular torrent. 
Doubtless, alas! these terrible reprisals 
of the oppressed were followed by fero- 
cious vengeance; formidable examples were 
made; yet the insurrection, or the terror, 
always wrung from the eternal oppressors 
of our fathers some lasting concession in- 
scribed in the laiv and necessarily ob- 
served. This has always been the case. 
You will see that there has not been a 
social, political, civil, or religious reform, 
that our fathers have not been forced to 
conquer, from ago to age, at the price of 
their blood ! It was thus that, by dint of 
valor, obstinacy, battles, and martyrdom, 
our flithers first broke the chains of the 
slavery in which the Franks had held 
them from the time of the Conquest, and 
arrived at serfhood, a condition a little less 
horrible. Then, from serfs they became 
vassals; and so on, from step to step, cutting 
their way, by patience and energy, through 
ages and obstacles, till they attained their 
divine right, the sovereignty of the people. 
And, moreover, all that constitutes the 
wealth of that France which our fathers 
had received from the hands of God, naked, 
barren, and uncultivated — those cultivated 
lands, those manufactures, those monu- 
ments, those railroads, those roads, those 
canals, in short, all those marvels of civili- 
zation with which France is now covered — 
are they not the fruit of the accumulation 
of the labor of our ancestors, the working 
classes, for so many centuries ? Ah ! they 
alone never remained idle; and while the 
kings and nobles of the Frankish conquest, 
and the higher clergy, enjoyed their idle- 
ness, we, the conquered, subjugated and de- 
spoiled Gauls, increased the incalculable 
wealth of the country. Yet you despair of the 
future because we have struggled and suffer- 
ed a little for the j)ast eighteen months I Ah ! 
it was not for eighteen months only that 
our fathers struggled and suffered, but for 
more than eighteen centuries 1 But if each 
generation had its martyrs, it also had its 
conquests; and it is of these martyrs and 
these conquests that you are about to see 
the pious relics and glorious trophies. 
Come, my children, follow me.” 

With these words, Lebrenn, followed by 
his family, entered the chamber with closed 
shutters, where his son, daughter, and son- 
in-law found themselves for the first time. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

The mysterious chamber into which Le- 
brenn introduced Sacrovir, Velleda, and 
George, for thefirsttime,hadnothing remark- 
able in its internal arrangements, except that 


it was always lighted by an antique lamp, 
like certain sacred sanctuaries. And was 
not this place the sanctuary of the pious 
memories, and often heroic traditions, of 
this plebeian family? Under the lamp, 
the children of the linen-draper saw a large 
table covered with a cloth, with a bronze 
coffer in its midst. Around this coffer, 
which was covered by the mould of years, 
were ranged different articles, some of which 
dated back to the remotest antiquity, while 
the most modern were the helmet of the 
Count de Plouernel and the iron ring which 
Lebrenn had brought back from the gal- 
leys at Rochefort. 

“ My children,” said Lebrenn, in a trem- 
ulous voice, as he pointed to the historical 
curiosities assembled on the table, “these 
are our family relics. Each one of these ar- 
ticles is connected with some reminiscence, 
name, fact, or date, of interest to us ; as 
when our descendants shall possess the nar- 
rative of my life, written by me, the helmet 
of M. de Plouernel, and the iron ring worn 
b^ me in the galleys, will have their histo- 
ric significance. It is in this manner that 
almost all the generations that have gone 
before us, for two thousand years, have fur- 
nished their tribute to this collection.” 

“ For so many ages !” said Sacrovir, 
with profound astonishment, looking at his 
sister and brother-in-law. 

“ You will know presently, my children, 
how these relics have come down to us. 
They are not -very bulky, as you see; for, 
with the exception of M. de PlouernePs 
helmet and a sword of honor given to my 
father at the close of the last century, they 
might all bo contained, as they have often 
been, in this bronze coffer — the tabernacle 
of our memories, often buried for long 
years in some desert place to await more 
tranquil days.” 

Lebremi then took from the table the 
first of these relies of the past, which were 
ranged in chronological order. This was 
a golden ornament, blackened by age, in 
the form of a sickle; a golden ring fasten- 
ed to the handle showed that it had been 
worn' suspended from a chain or belt. i 

“ This little golden sickle, ray children,” 
continued Lebrenn, “ is a Druidical em- 
blem ; it is the most ancient memento of 
our family in our possession, and dates 
back to the year 57 B.C. — that is, nineteen 
hundred and six years from this time.” 

“ And was this ornament worn by one of 
our ancestors?” asked Velleda. 

“ Yes, my child ; she who wore it was as 
young and beautiful ns you, and possessed 
of the most angelic heart and the noblest 
courage 1 But you will read this beautiful 
legend of our family in this manuscript,” 
added Lebrenn, pointing to a little book by 
the side of the golden sickle. This little 
book, like tho most ancient of those which 


48 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


were seen on the table, was composed of a 
great number of oblong pieces of tanned 
skin — a sort of parchment, formerly sewed 
together in the form of a long, narrow 
band but, for greater convenience, they 
had been ripped apart and bound in a little 
volume covered with black leather, lettered 
on the side : B.C. 57. 

“ But, father,’’ said Sacrovir, “ I see a 
little book similar to this by the side of 
each one of the articles of which you 
speak.” 

“ The reason is, that each relic bequeath- 
ed by a member of our family is accom- 
panied with a manuscript written by him, 
and relating his life and often that of his 
kindred.” 

“ What, father !” said Sacrovir, more and 
more astonished j “these manuscripts — ” 

“ Were written by our ancestors. This 
surprises you, my children. You can hard- 
ly understand how an unknown family can 
possess its chronicle, as if it were of an 
ancient royal race. Then you ask how 
this chronicle could have been handed 
down from age to age without interruption 
from nearly two thousand years ago to our 
time.” 

“ Indeed,” said the young man, “ it seems 
to me so extraordinary — 

“ That it is almost improbable.” 

“ No, father,” interrupted Velleda; “ not 
since you say that it is so ; but it greatly 
astonishes us.” 

“ Know first, my children, that this cus- 
tom of transmitting family traditions from 
generation to generation, either orally or 
in writing, was always one of the most 
characteristic customs of our ancestors, the 
Gauls, and was even more religiously ob- 
served among the Gauls of Brittany than 
elsewhere. Each famWy, however obscure, 
had its traditions, while in the other coun- 
tries of Europe this custom was rarely 
practiced, even among princes and kings. 
To convince you of this,” added the linen- 
draper, taking from the table a little old 
book, which seemed to date back to the 
first age of printing, “ I am about to cite 
you a passage translated from one Of the 
most ancient works on Brittany, and which 
is an authority in the learned world.”f 
He read as follows : “ ‘ Among the Bre- 

tons, the men of the humblest condition 
know their ancestors, and retain by memory 
their whole pedigree to the remotest gen- 
erations; expressing themselves thus, for 
instance: Eres, the son of Theodrik, the 
sou of Enn, the son of Aecle, the son of 


* The use of tanned skins for writing dates back to a 
very remote antiquity, and was widespread among the 
nations of Asia, as well as among the Greeks, Romans, 
and Gauls. A MS. Pentateuch, supposed to have been 
written prior to the ninth century, is preserved in the 
library at Brussels; it is written on fifty seven skins 
sewed together, forming a strip about forty feet long. 

' t GeraldiCambrensisltinerari WaUioe, Londini, 1585. 


Cadel, the son of Roderik the Great or the 
chief, and so on. Their ancestors are to 
them the object of a true idolatry; and the 
insults which they punish most severely are 
those offered their race. Their vengeance 
is cruel and sanguinary, and not only do 
they punish fresh insults, but those of a 
remote date are always present to their 
mind until they are avenged.’ You see the 
explanation of our family chronicle,” added 
Lebrenn, replacing the book on the table; 
“and, unhappily, you will also see that 
some of our ancestors have been too faith- 
ful to this custom of prosecuting their re- 
venge from generation to generation. For, 
more than once in the course of the ages, 
the Plouernels — 

“What do you say? The Plouernels!” 
cried George. “Were the ancestors of the 
Count de Plouernel ever the enemies of our 
race ?” 

“ Yes, my children, as you will see. But 
I will not anticipate. You understand, 
therefore, that if our fathers handed down 
a feud from generation to generation, they 
necessarily handed down, also, the causes of 
this feud, as well as the most important 
events that transpired in each generation; 
and it was in this manner that our archives 
were written from century to century to the 
present time.” 

“You are right,” said Sacrovir; “this 
custom explains what at first seemed so ex- 
traordinary.” 

“ I will presently give you other details 
respecting the language employed in these 
manuscripts,” resumed his father. “ Let me 
first call your attention to these pious relics, 
which will be so significant to you after yon 
have read the MSS. This golden sickle,” 
added he, replacing it on the table, “ is 
therefore the symbol of MS. No. 1, bearing 
date B.C. 57. You will see that this time 
was for our at that time free family an epoch 
of joyful prosperity, manly virtues, and lofty 
teachings. It was, alas ! the setting of a 
glorious day ; terrible calamities followed — 
slavery, tortures, and death.” Then, after 
a moment’s silence, Lebrenn resumed, “ In 
a word, each of these MSS. will tell you, 
from century to century, the life of our an- 
cestors.” 

For several moments, the children, as 
silent and deeply moved as their father, 
gazed with an eager glance at these relics 
of the past, of which we will give a sort of 
chronological list, as if making an inven- 
tory of the cabinet of an antiquary. 

Wo have said that to the little Golden 
Sickle* was attached a MS. bearing date 
B.C. 57. 


* Nothing can be less improbable than the pres'-rva- 
tion for centuries of such an ornament. A gold bracelet 
of Galiio manufacture and of exquisite workman- hip, 
may be seen in the Cabinet of Antiquities in the Eibii- 
otheque Nationale. 


THE DRAGOON’S HELMET, <fec. 


49 


* To MS. No. 2, bearing date B.C. 5G,wa3 
attached a Brass Bell, resembling those 
■which the people of Brittany are accustom- 
ed to hang round the necks of their cattle. 
This bell dated back, therefore, nineteen 
hundred and five years. 

To MS. No. 3, bearing date A.D. 50, was 
attached a fragment of an Iron Collar, 
eaten with rust, on which might be dis- 
cerned the vestiges of this inscription, 
engraved in Roman characters on the met- 
al, “ Servus Sum” {I am the slave of — ). The 
name of the owner of the slave had doubt- 
less been inscribed on the missing portion 
of the collar. This relic dated hack, there- 
fore, at least seventeen hundred and ninety- 
nine years. 

To MS. No. 4, bearing date A.D. 290, was 
attached a little Silver Cross, fastened to a 
chain of the same metal, which seemed to 
have been blackened by fire. This little 
cross dated hack, therefore, at least fifteen 
hundred and fifty-nine years. 

To MS. No. 5, bearing date A.D. 393, 
was attached a massive copper ornament, 
which had belonged to the crest of a hel- 
met, and which represented a Lark with 
half-spread wings. This relic dated back, 
therefore, at least fourteen hundred and 
fifty-six years. 

To MS. No. 6, bearing date A.D. 497, 
was attached the hilt of an Iron Dagger, 
covered with rust, on one side of which was 
written the word gildy and on the other 
these two words in the Celtic or Gallic 
tongue, Amintiaich (Friendship) and Coumu- 
nitez (Community). This dagger dated back, 
therefore, at least thirteen hundred and 
fifty-two years. 

To MS. No. 7, bearing date A.D. 675, 
was attached an Abbatical Cross of chas- 
ed silver, which had once been gilt. Among 
the ornaments on this cross might have 
been remarked the name of Merofleda. 
This relic dated back, therefore, eleven him- 
di-ed and seventy-four years. 

To MS. No. 8, bearing date A.D. 787, 
were attached two small Carolingian 
Coins, one of copper and the other of sil- 
ver, fastened together by an iron wire. 
These two coins dated back, therefore, at 
least a thousand and sixty-two years. 

To MS. No. 9, bearing date A.D. 885, 
was attached the iron head of a Barbed 
Arrow. This arrow dated back, therefore, 
at least nine hundred and sixty-four years. 

To MS. No. 10, bearing date A.D 999, 
was attached the Skull of a child eight or 
ten years of age, judging by its structure 
and size; on the bones of the skulj were en- 
graved these words in Gallic, Fin-aUhed 
(the end of the world). Tins relic dated 
back, therefore, at least eight hundred and 
fifty years. 

To MS. No. 11, bearing date A.D. 1010, 
was attached a White Shell, such as 
4 


were seen on the mantles of the pil- 
grims. This shell dated back at least 
eight Jiundred and thirty-nine years. 

To MS. No. 12, bearing date A.D. 1137, 
was attached a gold Pastoral Ring, such as 
was worn by the bishops, upon which was 
engraved the arms of the Plouernels (three 
eaglets talons sable on a field gules). This 
ring dated back at least seven hundred and 
twelve years. 

To MS. No. 13, bearing date A.D. 1208, 
was attached a pair of Iron Pincers, an in- 
strument of torture, cut like a saw in such a 
manner that the teeth fitted into each other. 
This instrument dated back at least six 
hundred and forty-one years. 

To MS. No. 14, bearing date A.D. 1358, 
were attached two articles — first, a small 
Iron Tripod, six inches in diameter and 
partly reddened by fire ; and secondly, the 
handle of a Dirk, richly inlaid and orna- 
mented with the arms of the Counts of 
Plouernel. This iron tripod and dirk- 
handle dated back, therefore, at least four 
hundred and ninety-one years. 

To MS. No. 15, bearing date A.D. 1413, 
was attached a Butcher’s Knife, with a 
horn handle and a broken blade. This knife 
dated back, tlierefore, at least four hundred 
and thirty-six years. 

To MS. No. 16, bearing date A.D. 1515, 
was attached a small Pocket Bible, belong- 
ing to the earliest days of printing ; the 
cover of this book had been almost entire- 
ly burned as well as the corners of the 
leaves, as though the bible had been for 
some time exposed to the fire; several of 
its pages were also stained with blood. This 
bible dated back, therefore, at least three 
hundred and thirty-four years. 

To MS. No. 17, bearing date A.D. 1648, 
was attached the iron head of a heavy 
Blacksmith’s Hammer, upon which were 
seen engraved tho Breton words Ez-Lirr (be 
free). This hammer dated hack, therefore, 
at least two hundred and ono years. 

To MS. No. 18, bearing date A.D. 1794, 
was attached a Sword op Honor, with a 
brass-gilt hilt; on either side of tho blade 
was engraved the inscription : The French 
BcpuUic. Lihertyy Equality, and Fraterni- 
ty. Jean Lebrenn has desened well of his 
country. 

Lastly were seen, unaccompanied with 
MS., and simply bearing date 1848 and 
1849, the last two articles composing tho 
collection, namely, tho Dragoon’s Helmet, 
given to Lebrenn by the Count de Plouer- 
uel, and tho Iron Ring which the linen- 
draper had worn in the Rocl)efort galleys. 

It will easily bo understood with what 
pious respect and ardent curiosity these 
relics of tho past were examined by tho 
family of the linen-draper. Ho broke tho 
thoughtful silence of the examination, and 
resumed : 


60 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


“ Thus you see, my children, that these 
MSS. relate the history of our plebeian 
family for nearly two thousand years; this 
history may be styled tho history of tho 
people, their vicissitudes, customs, manners, 
Bufierings, faults, excesses, and sometimes 
even crimes ; for slavery, ignorance and 
want often deprave men while degrading^ 
them. But, thank God, the evil deeds of 
our family have been few, while the trials 
of patriotism and heroism of our ancestors, 
both male and female, have been numerous 
during the long struggle against tho Ro- 
mano and Franks. Ye.s, both male and fe- 
male, for you will see women, in many 

E ages of theso narratives, rivaling their 
rothers in courage and devotion, like true 
daughters of Gaul, and many of theso touch- 
ing or heroic female figui’cs will remain 
cherished and glorified in your memory as 
tho saints of our family legends. One word 
more concerning the language employed in 
these jMSS. You know, my children, that 
your mother and I placed you from your 
earliest infimey under tho care of a nurse 
from our own provinces, thdt you might 
learn the Breton at tho same time wuth the 
French, and that wo have always kept you 
in tho habit of using this tongue by fre- 
quently conversing in it with you.” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, ray child, in teaching you the 
Breton language, my chief motive was to 
follow tho custom of our family, which has 
never abandoned its mother tongue, and to 
enable you to read theso IMSS.” 

“ Aro they written in the Breton language, 
then ?” asked Velleda. 

“ Y"es, nay children, for tho Breton tongue 
is no other than tho Celtic or Gallic lan- 
guage, which was spoken throughout Gaul 
before tho Roman and Frankish conquests. 
Save a few alterations caused by tho lapse 
of centuries, it has been preserved in almost 
all its purity, in Brittany, t(» this day ; for, 
of all tho Gallic provinces, Brittany \yas 
tho last that submitted to tho Frankish 
kings, sprung from the Conquest. Let us 
never forget tho proud and heroic motto of 
our fathers, when finally despoiled and sub- 
jugated by strangers,* ‘Our name, our 
tonguo and our faith remain to us!’ New, 
my children, during two thousand years of 
conflicts and trials, our family has preserved 
its name, its tongue, and its faith ; for we 
aro called Lcbrenn, wo speak Gallic, and I 
have brought you up in tho faith of our 

♦One of the most illustrious historians of our timesi 
whose auihoii;y cannot be disputed, AmfiJea Thierry, 
tavs in his introduction to the History of the Gauls, 
“The remains of the original language are still found at 
the present lime, in certain districts Of t rance and Eng- 
land. France possesses two of ihciC — the Basque, which 
is sjvikca la tl.e Eastern Pyrenees, and the l.ow Breton, 
or Arm'rican Gallic, wliich was formerly more wide- 
spread, but which is now confined to the extremity of 
Brittany ; England one, tho Welch, spokeVi in the coun- 
try of Wales.” 


fathers — that fiiith in the immortality 
of the soul and the continuity of life 
which makes us look on death as nothing 
more than a change of liabitation — a sub- 
lime faith whose morality, as taught by 
the Druids, may be summed up in such 
precepts as these : Adore God ; do no evil ; 
practice generosity ; ho is pure and holy 
who doeth pure and heavenly works. Lot 
us preserve, therefore, liko our ancestors, 
our name, our tongue and onr faith.” 

“ This pledge shall never bo broken by 
us, dear father,” answered Velleda. 

“ Wo will show neither loss courage nor 
less firmness than our ancestors,” added 
Sacrovir. “ Ah 1 with what emotion sliall 
I read these venerated characters traced by 
their hand. But aro the written characters 
of this Celtic or Gallic language just tho 
same as those of tho Breton, which wo aro 
accustomed to read ?” 

“ No ; the Gallic written characters, which 
were at first tho same as those of the 
Greeks,* became modified by time, and for 
several centuries past have fallen into dis- 
use; but my grandfather, a journeyman 
printer, as obscure as erudite and lettered, 
translated ail the MSS. written in Gallic 
into modern Breton. Thanks to this labor, 
YOU can thereforo read those JMSS. as flu- 
ently as those favorito legends of our hon- 
est Gildas, which, composed eight or nine 
hundred years ago, are still in circulation 
in our Breton villages, printed on brown 
paper.” 

“ One more question, father,” said Sacro- 
vir. “ lias our family constantly dwelt in 
Brittany during so many ages ?” 

“No, not always, as you will see from 
these narratives. Conquest, wars, and the 
varied and rude vicissitudes to which a fam- 
ily liko ours was subjected in those times, 
olten forced our fathers to quit their native 
country, sometimes dragged as slaves or 
prisoners to other provinces, sometimes to 
escape death, to gain their bread, in obedi- 
ence to strango laws, or in consequence of 
tho chances of fate; but there wero very 
few of our ancestors who did not mako a 
sort of pious pilgrimage, which I have 
made myself, and which you will mako on 
tho first of January succeeding your major- 
ity — that is, tho first of next January.” 

“ Why on that day in particular ?*” 

“ Because the first day of tho new year 
has always been a solemn festival in 
Gaul.” 

“ And what is this pilgrimage ?” 

“ It is to the Druidical stones of Karnak, 
near Au^ay.” 

“ I have heard, indeed, that theso gigan- 
tic blocks of granite, arranged in a myste- 

* Ihe Gauls employed ihc same ehanictcrs or le.tcrs as 
the Greeks. Tacitus speaks cf several Gallic iuscrip- 
ticDSfmud on the frontiers <f Germania, and remarks 
that they were written in Greek eharacters. 


61 


THE DRAGOON’ 

rious fashion, which aro still to be seen in 
our day, date back to a very remote an- 
tiqulty.’’ 

“ More than two thousand years ago, my 
child, it was already unknown at what 
distant epoch, lost in the night of ages, 
tho stones of Karnak had been thus ar- 
ranged.’^ 

“ 0 father ! I grow giddy in trying to 
fancy -what tho age of these stones must 
he.’> 

“ God only knows, my child; and if wo 
judge of their future by their past dura- 
tion, thousands of succeeding generations 
will -still gaze on these gigantic monuments, 
which defy tho ages, and on which tho 
eyes of our fathers have so often rested 
from century to century in pious medita- 
tion.’’ 

“ And why did they make this pilgrim- 
age ?” 

“ Because tho cradle of our family — tho 
fields and dwelling of tlie first of our an- 
cestors of Avhich these MSS. make mention 
— was situated near the stones; for, as you 
will see, this ancestor, nryned Joel, the 
bronn or chief of tho tribe of Karnak,^ 
was the chief or patriarch, elected by his 
tribe or clan.” 

“So that our name — brenn — signifies 
chief?” 

“Yes, this honorary appellation, joined 
to the individual name of each one — or the 
baptismal name, as it is called since tho in- 
troduction of Christianity — has become 
transformed, in tho course of time, into a 
family name; for tho use of family names 
did not become general among tho people 
until the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. 
In the early ages, tho sons of our ancestors, 
for instance, were called Guilhern, tho son 
of the brenn ; Kirio, tho grandson of tho 
brenn. But, in tho course ol time, the words 
grandson and great-grandson were sup- 
pressed, and nothing but the baptismal 
name was prefixed to the word brenn, which 
was corrupted to Lebrenn. In the same 
manner, almost all the names borrowed 
from a trade — such as Carpenter, Mason, 
Baker, Weaver, and Miller — originated in 
a manual art, the designation of which 
became transformed in time into a family 


* To demonstrate the probability of our fiction, we 
make the following extract from Gregory dc R-.strtnen, 
who wrote in the middle of the last century : “ The most 
ancient rel.c which I have found of tho Gallic or Breton 
language is a MS. book in the Breton tongue, contain- 
ing tho predictions of Gain-Clan, a Breton astronomer, 
celebrated even to this day among the Bretons; he 
prefaces his predictions by stating that he writes in tho 
year 240 of the Christian era, living between Itoch 
Hellas and Potz-guen — that is, between Muilaix and 
Triguier. Now, we ask whether, if it is known to day 
that Guin Clan lived in the year 240 — that U, more tliaa 
sixteen hundred years ago — between Morlaix and Ti^- 
guicr, there is anything improbable in supposing that 
the descendants of the I.ebrenn fawly might not have 
known that their ancestor lived about two thousand 
years ago near the stones of Karnak, which are still 
standing in oar day precisely as they did at that time. 


3 HELMET, &c. 

namo.* These explanations may, perhaps, 
seem puerile to you, yet they call your at- 
tention to a significant and mournful fact — 
the absence of family names among our 
brethren of the people. ’ Alas ! so long as 
they were slaves or serfs, what need bad 
they of names — they who did not belong to 
themselves ? Their master gave them 
strange and grotesque names, as lie would 
have given fancy names to a horse or dog ; 
then tho slave, on being sold to another 
master, was furnished with another name. 
But you will see that, in proportion as 
tliese oppressed beings attained to a less 
servile condition, tlianks to their bold and 
unceasing struggles, tho consciousness of 
their dignity as men developed more and 
more ; and when they were finally able to 
have an obscure but honorable name of 
their own, and to transmit it to their chil- 
dren, though still very unhappy, they were 
no longer cither slaves or serfs. The con- 
quest of a namo of their own — a family 
name — with tho duties imiiosed and tho 
rights bestowed by it, was one of tlio great- 
est steps of our ancestors toward completo 
enfranchisement. One word more respect- 
ing the MSS. you aro about to read. You 
will find therein a sentiment of tho Gallic 
nationality and its religious faitli that is 
worthy of admiration; a sentiment the 
more indomitable and exaggerated, per- 
haps, in proportion as tho Homan and 
Frankish conquests weighed heavily on 
these heroic men and women, so proud of 
their race, and carrying their contempt of 
death to ' superhuman greatness. Let us 
admire and imitate their ardent patriot- 
ism, their implacable hatred of oppres- 
sion, and their belief in the perpetuity 
of life, which delivered them from tho 
fear of death. But, wliilo piously 'extoll- 
ing the past, let us continue, according 
to tho progress of humanity, to march for- 
ward toward the future. Let us not forget 
that a new world commenced with Chris- 
tianity. Doubtless, its divine spirit of 
brotherly love, equality, and liberty was 
outrageously denied, trodden under foot, 
and persecuted in the early ages by many 
of tho higher Church dignitaries, tho 
owners of slaves and serfs, and gorged 
with the riches cozened from tho Frankish 
conquerors in return for the absolution 
of their abominable crimes. Doubtless, 
our enslaved fathers, seeing tho word 
of tho Gospel stified and powerless to 
free them, i-elied on themselves for sup- 
port, and took up arms against tho tyranny 
of the conquerors ; and almost alwa 3 '^s, ns 
you will see proved, where tho sermon had 


* Personages with no other names than surnames — 
sometimes grotesque, terrible, or touching -borrowed 
either from their condition or from some act of their life, 
peculiarity, ormoral or physical deformity, will be seen 
in the course of this story. 


52 


THE MYSTERIES OP THE PEOPLE. 


failed, the insurrection obtained lasting 
concessions, in accordance ■with the ■wise 
axiom of all times, ‘Help yourself, and 
Providence ■will help you.' But at last, in 
spite of the Apostolic Roman Church, the 
spirit of Christianity spread over the world, 
imbuing it with tljat soft and tender 
warmth which the Druidical faith of our 
fathers lacked in its sublimity, .and which, 
so to speak, rejuvenated and completed this 
faith. Doubtless, also, it was painful to us 
conquered ones to lose even the nan)G of 
our nationality, and to see the name of 
France imposed by a horde of ferocious 
conquerors on ancient and illustrious Gaul. 
It is a remarkable fact, that at the time 
of the Revolution of '89, the reaction 
against the Conquest and the kings by 
divine right was so thoroughly national, 
that citizens execrated even the French 
name, thinking it absurd and wrong (and 
they were, in a certain sense, as logical as 
patriotic) to preserve this name on obtain- 
ing the victory, after a struggle of fourteen 
centuries' duration, over the foreign kings 
and race that had inflicted it upon ua as 
the stigma of their conquest." 

“ That reminds me of my poor grand- 
father," said George, smiling ; “ he said that 
he was no longer proud of being a French- 
man since he knew it to be the name of the 
Cossack barbarians who had robbed and 
crushed us." 

“ I understand perfectly why we should 
claim the old and illustrious name of Gaul 
for our country," observed Sacrovir. 

“ Indeed," returned Lebrenn, “ the Gallic 
Republic would sound os well to my ear as 


the French Republic; but, in the first place,, 
it seems to me that our first immortal re- 
public has sufficiently purified the French 
name from its monarchical stain in the 
eyes of Europe; then Gaul is like those 
illustrious women who render themselves 
famous under their husbands' names." 

“ Nothing can bo juster than this com- 
parison," said Madame Lebrenn. “ Our 
name may have changed, but our race re- 
mains the same." 

“Now," resumed Lebrenn with emotion, 
“ you are initiated into the traditions of the 
foundation of our plebeian archives ; do you 
solemnly pledge yourselves to continue 
them, and to bind your children to do the 
same ? Do you, my son, and you, my 
daughter, in default of him, pledge yourself 
to write with sincerity your deeds and acts, 
just or unjust, praiseworthy or criminal, so 
that when you quit this existence for an- 
otiier, the story of your life may swell the 
family chronicle, and the inexorable justice 
of our posterity esteem or contemn your 
memory as it deserves ?" 

“ Yes, father, we swear this." 

“Well, Sacrovir, since you have to-day 
completed your one-and-twentieth year, you 
are at liberty, according to our traditions, 
to read these MSS. We will read them 
aloud eyery evening till they are finished; 
and that George may understand them, we 
will translate them into French." 

The same evening, the family being 
gathered round the center-table, Sacrovir 
commenced the reading of the first MS., 
entitled The Golden Sickle. 



THE 


MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE; 

OR, 

Slorg of a IJIebmtt Jamilg for ©feo ®:i]oasani) fears. 


THE GOLDEN SICKLE; or. The Virgin 
OF THE Isle op Sena. B.C. 57. 

CHAPTER I. 

The Gauls nineteen hundred years ago. — Joel, the 
husbaudmau, brenn of the tribe of Earnak. — Guil- 
hern, the son of Joel.— The encounter with a traveler. 
— Strange fashion of effering hospitality. — Joel, as lo- 
quacious as the traveler is retiesnt, talas complacent- 
ly of his famous stallion, Tom Bras, and his renowned 
war-dog, Deber Trud, the man-eater. — His c ntidence 
not rendering the traveler m''re communicative, the 
good Joel tells, not less cjmplacenlly, of his three sons, 
Guilhern, the husbandm.an. Mikael, the armorer, and 
Albinik. the sailor, as well as of his daughter, Ilcna, the 
Virgin of the Isle of Sena. — The name of ITcna loosens 
the traveler’s tongue. — They arrive at the house of 
Joel. 

He who writes this is named Joel, the 
brenn of the tribe of Karnak ; he is the son 
of Marik, who was the son of Kirio, who 
was the son of Tiras, who was the son of 
Gomez, who was the son ofVorr, who was 
the son of Glenan, who was the son of Erer, 
who was the son of Roderik, who was chos- 
en as the brenn of the Gallic army which 
subjected Rome to ransom two hundred and 
seventy-seven years ago. 

Joel feared the gods, his heart was up- 
right, his courage firm, and his spirit joy- 
ous ; ho liked to laugh, to tell stories, and, 
above all, to listen to those of others. 

In the time of Caesar, whose name bo 
accursed, Joel lived two leagues from 
Auray, not far from the sea and the island 
of Roswallan, close by the skirts of the 
forest of Karnak, the most celebrated forest 
of Breton Gaul. 

One evening, the evening preceding the 
anniversary of the day on which his be- 
loved daughter Ilena had been born to him, 
eighteen years before, Joel and his eldest son, 
Guilhern, were returning homeward atnight- 
fall, in a wagon drawn by four handsome 
Breton oxen, with horns shorter than their 
ears. Joel and his son had just been spread- 
ing marl over their lands, as it was the 
custom to do in autumn, to prepare them 
for the spring crops. The wagon toiled up 
the steep cliffs of Craigh to a spot where the 
mountainous road is closely shut in by 
great rocks, and from which the ocean could 
be seen in the distance, and still farther the 
mysterious and sacTed Isle of Sena. 

“Father,^’ said Guilhern to Joel, “see 
that man yonder on the top of the cliff. In 


spite of the steepness of the descent, he is 
putting his horse to the gallop.” 

“ The man will break his neck as sure as 
the plow was invented by the good Ell- 
dud.”* 

“ Where can he be going, father ? The 
sun is setting, the wind blows hard, the 
weather is stormy, and this road leads only 
to the lonely strand.” 

“ My son, this man is not a native of Bre- 
ton Gaul ; he wears a fur cap and a goat- 
skin coat, with the hair outward; and his 
logs are cased in tanned skin, fastened with 
red bands. lie has a short axe at his right 
side, and at his left a long knife in a sheath. 
Ilis great black horse does not stumble 
in the descent. But where can he be go- 
ing ?” 

“ Father, this man has doubtless lost his 
way.” 

“ Oh, my son, may Teutates hear you !f We 
will offer hospitality to this horseman, 
whose dress announces that ho is a strang- 
er. What fine stories ho will tell us about 
his country and travels !” 

“ The divine Ograi,j: whose speech binds 
men with chains of gold, bo auspicious to 
us, father ! It is long since a stranger 
story-teller has been seated at our fireside.” 

“ And wo have no news of what is taking 
place in the rest of Gaul ?” 

“ Unfortunately, no.” 


* “ Elldud, Ihe holy man of Cor-Dewdws, improved 
agriculture, taught the Gauls a bolter method of culti- 
vating the KOil than had before been known, and showed 
them iiow to manure with marl, and to u o the piuw. 
Before his time, the land was tilled with the pick and 
the hoc alone.” — Jean RETNAno. 

t “ Teutates was the deml-god or saint who, in onr 
■fathers’ cyos, held in his hands the destiny of souls ; it 
was lie who presided over a 1 journeys, not only through 
this world, but through all the circlcj of the universe, 
the director, as Csesar calls him, of roads and travelers.” 
—Jean Kevnadd. 

t One of the most characteristic features of that 
genius for story-telling, and, above all, of that love of 
listening to stories, so peculiar to tho Gauls, was the 
demi-god, Ogmi. ‘•Thisdemi god, who symbolized the 
power of speech, the atirlbutes of which are de.-cribed by 
l.ucan,” says Reynaud, '* was represented under tho 
figure of 01 1 Ago, as if to denote that, in default of the 
powers of the body, ho possessed tliose of tradition and 
experience. Though ho was inves'ed willi the lion’s skin 
and clubof Uercules, it was not by firce Ih-it iio retained 
his captives, who. bound with chains of guid and umber, 
c.\ tending from the ears to tho mouth, far ftom re-isting 
him, followed him eagerly like those wild beasts formerly 
made captives by the lyre of Orpheus.” 


64 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


“ Ah ! ray son, if I were all-powerful, 
liko IIosu?*,* I would have anew story-teller 
every night at ray supper-table.” 

“ And I would send men everywhere to 
travel, that they might return and tell mo 
their adventures.” 

“ And if I had Ilesus’s power, what sur- 
prising adventures would I send my travel- 
ers to redouble the interest of their stories 
on their return.” 

“ Father, father, here is the horseman 
close by us !” 

, “ Yes, ho has checked his horse, for the 
road is narrow; wo will block up the way 
with our wagon. Come, Guilheni, the mo- 
ment is propitious; the traveler must have 
lost his way ; wo will offer him hospitality 
for the night, and will keep him to-morrow, 
and perhaps several days longer. Wo shall 
have done a good deed, and ho will give us 
new's of Gaul and the other countries in 
which ho has traveled.” 

‘‘And it will likewise give my sister 
Heua great pleasure, when sho comes to- 
morrOAV, to spend her birthday with us.” 

“OGuilhern! Iliad not thought of the 
pleasuro Avhich my dear daughter will take 
in listening to the stranger. He must bo 
our guest.” 

“ lie shall bo, father, ho shall be,” re- 
turned Guilhern, with a determined air. 

Joel and his sou alighted from the wag- 
on, and advanced toward tho stranger. On 
seeing him near by, both Avere struck Avith 
his majestic features. Nothing could bo 
imagined prouder than his eye, more man- 
\y than his iiguro, or nobler than his bearing. 
On his forehead and his left cheek ho boro 
tho scars of tAvo freshly-healed Avounds. 
By his martial air, ho might have been 
taken for ouo of the chiefs chosen by tho 
tribes to command them in times of Avar. 
Joel and liissonAvero moro than ever desir- 
ous that ho should accept their hospitality. 

“Friend traveler,” said Joel, “night is 
approaching, and you have lost your Avay. 
This road leads only to a lonely strand, 
which Avill soon bo covered by tho rising 
tide, for tho wind is bloAving hard. To pur- 
sue your Avay on such a night would bo 
perilous ; como to my house, therefore, and 
to-morroAV you shall continue your jour- 
ney.” 

“ I have not lost my way ; I know where 
I am going, and I am in haste. Turn your 
oxen aside and make room for mo to pass,” 
rudely answered tho horseman, his broAv 
bathed Aviih perspiration from the rapidity 
of his descent. By his accent, ho appeared 
to belong to Central Gaul, in tho neighbor- 
hood of tho Loire. Having thus ausAvered 
Joel, ho struck his heel twice against tho 


* Ilesus, like the Jehorah of the Hebrews and the Ju- 
piter of tho I’agans, was the supremo god of the Gauls. 
The same Uesus siguiQes, I am that 1 am. 


flanks of his great black horse in order to 
approach nearer to tho oxen, Avhich, having 
turned a little on one side, completely 
blocked up the path. 

“ Friend traveler, did you not hear me ?” 
said Joel. “I told you that this road led. 
nowhere but to tho shore, that night aa'qs 
approaching, and that I offered you the 
shelter of my house.” 

“ I do not need your hospitality,” shouted 
tho stranger, beginning to grow angry. 
“Drivo your oxen out of tho Avay; you see 
that I cannot pass on cither sido because 
of the rocks. Out of my wgy quickly — I 
am in baste.” 

“ Friend,” said Joel, “ you are a stranger ; 
I am a native of this country. It is my 
duty to prevent you from losing your Avay : 
I shall do my duty.” 

“ By Ritha GuAvr ! who made himself a 
sagum* of tho kings’ beards that ho had 
shaven,”! cried the stranger, waxing more 
and moro furious. “ Since my beard has 
been groAvn, I have traveled much, and 
seen many countries, men and Avoudcrfnl 
things, but never havo I met two such mad- 
men as these.” 

Joel and his son, who passionately loved 
to listen to stories, on learning from tho 
stranger himself that ho had seen many 
countries, men and Avonderful things, con- 
cluded thence that ho must have many 
charming tales to relate, and felt a still 
moro violent desire to have such a story- 
teller as their guest. Instead of stirring 
his Avagou, therefore, Joel approached close 
to tho traveler, and said to him in his 
gentlest voice, albeit it Avas naturally harsh, 
“ Friend, you shall go no farther. I Avill 
reader myself pleasing to tho gods, aud 
above all to Teutates, by preventing yon 
from losing your Avay, and making you pass 
a comfortable night under a dry roof, 
instead of letting you Avandcr on tho shore 
and run the risk of being drowned by tho 
tide.” 

“Take care !” returned tho stranger, rais- 
ing his hand to tho axe suspended by his 
side. “ Take care ! If jmu do not instantly 
turn your oxen aside, I Avill make a sacrifleo 
to tho gods, and add you to tho offering !” 

“ Tho gods cannot but protect such a fer- 
vent Avorshiper,” returned Joel, smiling,, 
after exchanging a foAV Avords Avith his son, 
“ Avherelbro they Avill not suffer you to pass 
tho night on tho shore, as you Avill sec.” 

With these Avords, Joel and his son, pre- 
cipitating themselves suddenly on tho trav- 
eler, took him each by one leg, aud, both 
being extremely tall and robust, raised 


* The sagum of the Gauls is the blouse of our limes. 

t Ritha Gawr, a Gallic demi-god or saint, according to 
tradition, made himself a saguoi. say the TriaiP, from 
the t>uaTds of the kings whom ho had shaven, er reduced 
to slavery, on account of their oppression and contempt 
for justice. 


THE GOLDEN SICKLE. 


65 


him straight up in the air above the saddle 
of his horse, shoving the latter forward so 
that they had only to set the traveler on 
his feet, which they did with great respect. 
The stranger, whoso fury was at its height, 
endeavored to resist and to draw his knife, 
whereupon Joel and Guilhern held him 
fast, took a stout rope from their wagon, 
tied his hands and feet firmly, hut with 
great gentleness and kindness, and, having 
thus rendered him powerless to stir, despite 
his frantic efforts, placed him in the bottom 
of the wagon, still with groat respect and 
gentleness, for the manly dignity of his face 
impressed them more and more.* 

Guilhern then mounted the horse of the 
traveler, and followed the wagon, which 
Joel drove, quickening the pace of the 
oxen with his goad, for the wind blew 
louder and louder, and the sea was heard 
dashing noisily against the rocks of the 
coast; Hashes of lightning darted through 
the black clouds ; everything, in short, fore- 
told a stormy night. 

Yet, in spite of this threatening night, 
the stranger did not seem grateful for tho 
hospitality which Joel and his son hastened 
to offer him. He lay in the bottom of tho 
wagon white with rage, sometimes gnash- 
ing his teeth, and sometimes panting as if 
in a fever ; but ho kept his anger within 
himself, and did not speak a word. Joel, it 
must be confessed, was very fond of hear- 
ing others talk, but ho was also very fond 
of talking himself; wherefore, ho said to 
the stranger ; 

“ My guest — for such you are now, and I 
thank Teutates, tho god of travelers, for 
having sent me a guest — it is necessary that 
you should know who I am ; yes, I ought 
to tell you who I am, since you are about 
to bo seated at my hearth.*^ And, although 
the traveler made an angry gesture, which 
seemed to signify that ho was indifferent to 
tho history of Joel, the latter nevertheless 
continued : “ My name is Joel ; I am the 
son of Marik, who was tho son of Kirio. 
Kirio was tho son of Tiras; Tiras was tho 
son of Gomez; Gomez was tho son of Vorr; 
Vorr w’as tho son of Glenan, and Glenan 
was the son of Erer, who was tho son of 
Roderik, who was chosen as tho brennf 
of the confederated Gallic army which 
forced Romo to pay a ransom in punish- 
ment for its trcacheiy, two hundred and 
seventy-seven years ago. I have been 
chosen tho brenn of my tribe, which is tho 
tribe of Karnak. Wo are husbandmen. 


* “Among the Gauls,” saj's Cassar, “the passion for 
stor.v-telling is so great, that traders comiug from a dis- 
tance find themselves at-sailed with questions by the 
crowd. Sometimes travelers are even stopped by force 
on tlic roads, and obliged to satisfy the curiosity of the 
passers-by.” 

t The Roman historians mistook the title of th| leader 
of the Gallic armies for his name, and transformeu brenn 
into Brennus. 


from father to son ; wo cultivate our fields 
to the best of our ability, after the example 
given by Coll* to our ancestors. Wo sow 
more wheat and barley than rye and oats.” 

The stranger appeared more irritated 
than interested hy these details ; neverthe- 
less, Joel wont on: “ Thirty-two years ago, 
I married Margarid, tho daughter of Dor- 
lenn, by whom 1 have had a daughter and 
three sons ; tho eldest — who is ihoro behind 
us, riding your good black horse, friend 
guest — tlic_ eldest is named Guilhern; he 
assists me in cultivating luy fields, together 
with several of my kindred. I raiso great 
numbers of black sheep, which feed in our 
heaths, together with multitudes of wild 
hogs, as fierce as wolve.s,t and which never 
sleep beneath a roof. Wo have some fine 
meadows in tho valley of Anray. I like- 
wise raise horses, from my fine stallion, 
Tom Bras. My son Guilhern amuses him- 
self, for his part, in raising dogs for hunting 
and for war; the hunting-dogs from a lime- 
hound named Tyntainmar, tho war-dogsj 
from my great dog, Debcr Trud, tho man- 
eater. Our horses and dogs aro so re- 
nowned that men come to buy them from 
twenty leagues round. You see, my guest, 
that jmu might have fallen into worse 
hands.” 

Tho stranger heaved a deep sigh of sti- 
fled anger, gnawed his long, light mous- 
tache, and raised his eyes to heaven. Joel 
continued, goading his oxen : 

“ Mikael, my second son, is an armorer, 
four leagues from hero, at Auray. He not 
only makes weapons of war, but also 
plowshares, large Gallic saythcs,ll and 
axes, which are greatly esteemed, for he 
brings his iron from tho mountains of 
Ares. And that is not all, friend trav- 
eler, that is not all ; Mikael makes other 
things besides. Before settling at Auray, 
he went to Bourges, to work with one of 
our relatives, a descendant of the inventor 
of tho art of plating tin on iron and copper,} 
in which tho workmen of Bourges now 


* Coll, the son of Coll-Fewr, another Gallic saint. He 
first introcluced wheat and barley. 

t “ In spite of tho extension of agriculture,” says 
Strabo, “ the raising or' cattle is one of tho principal 
occupations of tho Gauls^ They raise innumerablo 
Iicrds of balf-sarage swine, which are driven to tho 
forests, and which are as dangerous to cncounier as 
wolves,” 

t ‘In times of war,” says Strabo, “the Gauls used 
dogs to track and pursue iho enery. These i'ercciou ♦ 
dogs, which were equally well adapted to balilc end t > 
(ho hunting of wild beasts, came from Brittany and the 
Ardennes: they foughh for their masters round the 
chariots of war.” 

II The Gauls invented the scythe. Befcrethls innova- 
tion, tl|e reaping was done whollyrwiih the sickle ; as 
Ixfnrothc Gallic invention of tho plow, the earth was 
tilled with the hcc. 

() Pliny says that the Gauls of Bourges plated melted 
tin on copper with such skill that it could not be distin- 
guished from silver. Vases, bits, harness, and whole 
chariots were thus ornamented. 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


56 

excel. My son Mikael returned worthy of 
his masters. Ah ! you should see the 
horses’ hits, the ornaments for chariots, 
and the superb helmets that Mikael makes; 
you would think that they were silver! 
Ho has just finished a helmet, with a crest, 
representing an elk’s head with its horns — 
the most magnificent and terrible thing you 
ever saw !” 

“ Ah !'■’ murmured the stranger, between 
his teeth, “ men are right in saying that 
the sword of a Gaul kills but once, while 
his tongue murders you without ceasing.” 

“ Friend guest,” returned Joel, “ till now 
I have had no praise to give your tongue, 
which has been as mute as a fish ; but I 
will await your leisure, to hear from you, 
in turn, who you are, whence you come, 
where you are going, what wonderful men 
you have met in your travels, and Avhat is 
now taking place in the other countries of 
Gaul, which you have doubtless just passed 
through. Meanwhile, I will finish telling 
you about myself and my family.” 

At this threat, the stranger gave an im- 
patient jei’k, as if wishing to break his 
bands; but in vain — the rope was strong, 
and Joel and his son had tied the knots 
securely. 

“ I have not yet spoken of my third son, 
Albiuik, the sailor,” continued Joel; “lie 
trades with the Island of Great Britain, as 
well as with all the coast of Gaul, and even 
goes as far as Spain, to carry thither Gas- 
con wines and Aquitanian salt meat. Un- 
fortunately he went to sea some time since, 
with his charming wife, Meroe ; wherefore 
you will not see them at my house this 
evening. I told you that, besides my three 
sons, 1 have a daughter; and she, do you 
see,” exclaimed Joel, in a proud and soft- 
ened voice, “ is the pearl of the family ! I 
am not the only one that says so ; my wife, 
my sons, my kindred, and all my tribe 
agree with me ; all join in singing the 
praises of Ilena, the daughter of Joel — of 
Hena, one of the nine virgins of the Isle of 
Sena.” 

“ What do you say ?” cried the stranger, 
suddenly sitting upright — the only move- 
ment that he could make, seeing that his 
legs were tied and his hands bound behind 
his back — “ What do you say ? Is your 
daughter one of the nine virgins of the Isle 
of Sena 

“ This seems to surprise you greatly, and 
to soothe you a little, friend guest.” 

“Your daughter,” repeated the stranger, 
as if unable to believe what he heard ; 
“ your daughter one of the nine virgins of 
the Isle of Sena?” 

“ As truly as that it will be eighteen 


1 he Isle of Sena, now called Sein. There was, for- 
merly, a runowneil College of Druidesses on ihis island : 
some of them remained virgins, and others married auu 
• rticipated in family lite 


■years to-morrow since she was born; for 
we are preparing to keep her birthday, and 
you will be of the party. The guest at our 
hearth is one of our family. You will see 
my daughter ; she is the loveliest, gentlest, 
and most learned of her companions, mean- 
ing no ill of any of them.” 

“ Come,” rejoined the .stranger, less rough- 
ly, “ I forgive the violence you have done 
me.” 

“ Hospitable violence, my friend.” 

“ Hospitable or not, you have prevented 
me by force from repairing to the Bay of 
Erer, where a boat will wait till sunset to 
take me to the Isle of Sena.” 

At these words, Joel burst out laughing. 

“ What are you laughing at ?” asked the 
stranger. 

‘•If you should tell me that a boat with 
a dog’s head, bird’s wings, and fish’s tail was 
waiting to take you to the Isle of Sena, I 
should laugh at your words all the same.” 

“ I do not understand you.” 

“ You are my guest ; I will not insult you 
by telling you that you lie. But I can say, 
‘ Friend, you are in jest when you talk of 
the boat that is to take you to the Isle of 
Sena. Never has man — the Arch Druid 
excepted — set foot on the Isle of Sena, and 
never will man set foot thereon.’ ” 

“ And how do you manage when you go 
to see your daughter ?” 

“ I do not land on the island ; I stop at 
the Isle of Kellor and wait for my daughter, 
who comes there to meet me.” 

“Friend Joel,” said the traveler, “you 
wished me to be your guest; I am such, 
and as such I ask you to do mo a service. 
Take me to-morrow in your boat to the Isle 
of Kellor.” 

“ You are not aware, then, that the 
ewaghs watch there night and day ?” 

“ I know it ; one of them was to meet 
me this evening at the Bay of Erer to take 
mo to Taliessin, the Arch Druid, who is 
now at the Isle of Sena with his wife, 
Auria.”* 


* The word Druid is derived from the Gallic words 
derw (oak), wyd (mistletoe), and dyn (mao) — that is, the 
man of the mistletoe oak — Uerw-wyd-dyn — which wag 
corrupted to Druid. The oak was the sj-mbol of divinity 
in the eyes of the Druids ; their only temples were the 
forests of oaks of centuries’ growth, where they invoked 
and glorified Ilesus, the supremo god. The mistletoe — 
a plant differing in nature from the oak, and drawing its 
nourishment therefrom — was to them the image of man, 
living by and from God, although differing trom Jiim in 
nature. ‘-The oak,” says Pliny, “ is the admiration of 
Gaul ; it is the most sacred thing in the country.” The 
.antiquity and sublimity of the Druidical religion is 
proved by numerous passages from the ancient authors, 
.tristotle says that, thanks to the Druids, Gaul was the 
iusTuctress of Greece. Polystorus — one of the greatest 
authorities of the ancients with respect to the knowl- 
edge of past epochs, says that Pythagoras traveled 
am. ng the Druids and borrowed from them the pnn- 
liplcsof philosophy. Pythagoras proclaims the Druids 
ho most elevate 1 in spirit of all mankind. .St. Cyril of 
Alexandria, in his thesis against the llmperor Julian, 
maintaming that the belief in the unity of G.jd had c.\- 
istod among foreign nations before spreading among the 
Gieek-i, alleges the example of theDruids, whom lie puts 


THE GOLDEN SICKLE. 


57 


‘^It is tbo truth,” replied Joel, greatly 
surprised. “ Tho last time that my daugh- 
ter was home, she told mo tjiat tho aged 
Taliessiu had been on tho island over sinco 
tho be^innin" of the year, and that Talics- 
siu’s wife had shown her tho kindness of a 
mother.” 

“ You see that you can believe me, friend 
Joel. Take mo to-morrow to tho Islo of 
Kellor, where I wish to speak to one of the 
ewaghs.” 

“ 1 consent ; I will take you to the Islo 
of Kellor.” 

“Now you can rid mo of my bonds. I 
swear by Ilesus that I will not seek to es- 
cape your hospitality.” 

“ So be it,” said Joel, untying the knots. 
“ I trust to the promise of my guest.” 

By this time, night had fallen; but, in 
spite of tho darkness and roughness of the 
road, tho oxen, sure of their path, went 
straight toward tho house of Joel, llis 
son Guilhern, who, still mounted on the 
traveler’s horse, had followed tho wagon, 
took a cow’s horn, pierced at both ends, 
and, making use of it as a trumpet, blew 
three times. Tho loud barking of dogs 
soon answered tho call. 

“ Hero wo are at home,” said Joel to the 
stranger. “ You must have suspected as 
much from tho barking of tho dogs. Listen ! 
that deep voice which is heard above all tho 
rest belongs to my old Deher Trud, tho 
father of all tho fierce war-dogs which you 
will SCO to-morrow. My son Guilhern will 
lead your horse to the stable ; ho will find 
there a good supply of fresh litter and old 
barley.” 

At the sound of Guilhern's horn, one of 
his kinsmen came from the house with a 
pine torch in his hand. Joel, guided by 
tliis light, turned his oxen, and the wagon 
entered the courtyard. 


CHAPTER II. 

The house of Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Earnak. — A 
Gallic family. — Hospitality, costume-i, arms, manners, 
and customs. — The Girdle of Ag.lity: — Tho chest of 
skulls, — Armel aodJu'yan, the I wo Suldunc:,. — i.ager- 
ness of Joel to heir the stones tf the traveler, who 
delays satisfying his curicsity. — Tho repast. — liow a 
supper often ended nmoog the Gauls, to the great de- 
light of the mothers, young girls and children. 

The house of Joel, like all the rural hab- 


on a level with the disciples of Zoroaster and Brahma. 
Celsus, surname J Origenus, calls tho Gaiactophages of 
Homer and the Druids of G.tuI the primordial and 
wisest of nati.ios. These testimonials superabuudantly 
prove the grandeur and dignity of the religion of our 
fathers. 

In principle, nothing separated the Druidical body 
from the re.',t of the nation ; they were not a caste and 
sacerdotal body, like the Catholic clergy, for instance. 
The intcests of the Druids were the same as those of 
their brethren ; they were siraiily trained to science and 
literature, and pos.sessed full liberty to marry, and to 
participate in public and private ailairs. They had 


itations of tho Gauls,* was very spacious. 
It Was circular iu form and was built by 
moans of two rows of stakes, filled in with 
well-pounded clay mixed with chopped 
straw ; this thick wall was then covered 
over, insido and out, with a coating of fine 
greasy cartli, which, when dry, bocamo as 
hard as sandstone; the roof, which was 
broad and projecting, w^as made of oaken 
rafters, ji.iined together, and covered with a 
layer of sca-weed, so thick that it was im- 
possible for the water to ponetrale it. On 
each side of tho house extended the out- 
buildings designed for the granaries, sta- 
bles, slieep-folds, sheds, collar, and laun- 
dry. These diCereut buildings formed a 
vast square, inclosing a large court, which 
was closed at night by a massive door; 
outside, a strong palisade, with a deep ditch 
in front, surrounded tho building, leaving 
space between for a sort of circular walk, 
about four cubits broad, where two great, 
ferocious war-dogs were let loose during 
the night, This palisade had an outer 
door, corresponding to tho inner door of the 
court; both were closed at nightfall. 

The number of men, women and chil- 
dren, all more or less nearly related to 
Joel, who assisted him in cultivating the 
fields, was considerable. They lodged in 
the buildings adjoining tho main house, as- 
sembling at the latter at mid-day and evening 
to take tliCir meals in common. Other 
habitations, similarly built, and occupied by 
numerous families, who cultivated their 
lands, were scattered here and there through 
tho country, and composed tho tribe of Kar- 
nak, of which Joel was the chief. 

On entering tho courtyard of his house, 
Joel was welcomed by the caresses of his old 
war-dog, Deher Trud, of an iron-gray color, 
marked with black, with an enormous head 
and ferocious eyes, and so high in stature 
that bo put his fore-paws on his master’s 
shoulder when caressing him — a dog so 
bravo that ho had once fought a monstrous 
bear from tho Ares Mountains and stran- 
gled him. As to his warlike qualities, 
Deher Trud would have been worthy to fig- 
ure in the pack of Bithert,the Gallic chief, 
who said, contemptuously, at tho sight of a 
troop of tho enemy, “ They would not make 
a meal for my dogs.” 

Deher Trud having at first eyed and 
scented tho stranger with a dubious air, 
Joel said, “ Do you not see that it is a guest 

charge of public instruction, pubic inorals, I ho civil 
and criminal court.s, and diplomatic uffaira. The Druid- 
ical body was divided into tha Druids proper, wnose 
duty it*wa.s to 8ui>erinteud public affairs, tha ewaghs 
or vatei, who had charge of religious worship, and 
who also practiced medicine, and tho bards who sung 
the glory of tlie Iieroeiof Gaul and the praises of the 
god.i and branded evil deeds with their satire. The 
wandering minstrels that arc s'iil seen in Brittany are 
the rlesccudants of these ancient bards, 

* This deicription of a Gallic house is faithfally copied 
from the ancient writers. 


68 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


whom I have brought whereupon, aa if 
ho had understood his master, the dog 
troubled himself no more about the stranger, 
but, frisking clumsily, preceded them to the 
house. This house was divided into throe 
rooms of unequal size; the twosmaller, shut 
off from the main apartment by oaken par- 
titions, wei’O designed, one for Joel and his 
wife, the other for their daughter Ilcna, 
the Virgin of the Isle of Sena, when she 
visited her family. The great central hall 
served for the meals and the evening occu- 
pations. 

^Vhen the stranger entered this hall, a 
great fire of oak logs, fed with heath and 
sea-weed, was blazing on the hearth, and 
almost rendered useless the light of a 
beautiful plated-copper lamp, suspended by 
three chains of the same metal, as bright 
as silver. This lamp was a present from 
Mikael, the armorer. Two whole sheep 
were roasting on long iron spits before the 
fire, Avhilo salmon and other sea-fish were 
boiling in a largo copper kettle with water, 
vinegar, salt, and cummin. 

On the wainscoting were nailed the heads 
of wolves, boars, and stags, and a kind of 
wild bull called the urus, which was begin- 
ning to bo very rare in the country. Weap- 
ons of the chase were also seen, such as 
arrows, bows, and slings; and warlike weap- 
ons, such as spears, darts, axes, copper 
swords, wooden bucklers covered with the 
tough skin of the seal, and lances, Avith a 
broad and sharp barbed head, ornamented 
with a brass bell, for the purpose of an- 
nouncing to the enemies from afar the 
coming of the Gallic Avarriors ; for the lat- 
ter despised ambuscades, and liked to fight 
hand-to-hand in an open field. Nets for 
fishing, and harpoons for spearing the 
salmon on the flats after the tide had ebbed, 
were also seen suspended hero and there. 

On the right of tho entrance-door Avas a 
sort of altar, composed of a block of gray 
granite, surmounted and shadoAved by largo 
oak-boughs, freshly cut. Upon tho stonp 
was placed a small copper basin, filled AAUth 
water, in Avhich Avoro scv’cn twigs of mistle- 
toe, and on tho wall was tho inscription, 
“ Plenty and paradise are in store for tho 
just man anti pure. lie is pure and holy 
who docs pure and heavenly Avorks.” 

As soon as Joel entered tho house, ho 
approached tho copper basin with tlio 
seven twigs of mistletoe, and respectfully 
touched each of them Avith his lips. Ills 
guest folloAvcd his example, and both ap- 
proached tho hearth, Avhero Mamm'^.^Iar- 
garid, tho Avifo of Joel, sat Avith her distaff 
in her hand. She Avas remarkably tall of 
stature, and Avas dressed in a short brown 
woolen tunic Avithout sleeves, over her long 


* Mamm’, a tide of respect among the Gauls, slgnliy- 
ing (lame, or mother. 


close-sleeved gray dress. Both tunic and 
dress were confined round tho Avaist by tho 
string of her apron. A Avhitc, square 
cap shoAved her gray hair, parted on her 
forehead. Liko several of tho Avomca of 
her kindred, she Avoro a coral necklace, 
bracelets of filagree Avork set Avith garnets, 
and other gold and silver ornaments manu- 
factured at Autun.* Around JIamm’ Mar- 
garid tho children of her son Guilhern and 
of several of her kindred Avero playing, 
while tho ytmng mothers Averc occupied in 
preparations for the evening repast. 

“ Margarid,’^ said Joel to his wife, “I 
bring you a guest.” 

“ lie is Avelcome,” answered l\Iamm’ Mar- 
garid, plying her distaff. “ Tho gods havo 
sent us a guest, our hearth is his. The eve 
of my daughter’s birthday is auspicious to 
us.” 

“ May your children receive tho same 
welcome, Avhen they travel, that you giA^o 
to me,” said the stranger, respectfully. 

“ And do you knoAV Avhat a guest tho gods 
havo sent us, Margarid?” resumed .foci. 
“ Such a guest as one would ask of tho 
good Ogmi for tho long autumn and Avin- 
tcr evenings; a guest avIio has seen so 
many curious and Avonderful things in his 
travels, that a hundred evenings Avould not 
bo too much in which to hear all his 
stories.” 

Scarcely had Joel uttered these Avords, 
when all, from Mamm’ ^largarid and the 
young mothers to tho maidens and little 
children, gazed at tho stranger Avith eager 
expectation of tho Avonderful tales Avhich 
ho Avould relate. 

“ Let us haA’o supper soon,” said Joel ; 
“our guest is perhaps as hungry as myself, 
and I am famishing !” 

“ Our kinsmen are filling tho mangers of 
the cattle,” said Margarid ; “ they Avill 
speedily return. If our guest is willing* avo 
Avill wait supper for them.” 

“ I thank tho Avifo of Joel, and will wait,” 
returned tho stranger. 

“ And in the mean time tell us a story,” 
said Joel. 

“Friend,” answered tho traveler, inter- 
rupting him with a smile, “as one cup 
serves for all, so one story servos for all. 
By and by tho cup Avill circulate from lip 
to lip, and tho story from ear to ear. But 
tell me, Avhat is that brass belt Avhich I see 
hanging on the Avail ?” 

“ Why, havo you not tho bolt of agility 
also in your country ?” 

“ Explain yourself, Joel.” 

“ Among us, tho youth of each tribe come 

* “The Antun jewel?,” says Posidoniu®, “were very 
finely wrought, auil cjriche i with coral, which the e 
were several banks in the llyeres.” “There were in 
Gaul,” says Theophra tus, “ besides mines of po d, sil- 
ver, iron, tin, and C')p])cr, mines of garnets, calte.l car- 
buncles. the smallest of which was sold for forty pieces 
of gold in the lime of Alexander the Great.” 


THE GOLDEN SICKLE. 


59 


I every new moon to the house of tho chief to 
try on this belt, in order to show that they 
I are not bloated by debauchery, and that 
I they continue light and agile.* Those 
i who cannot clasp tho belt around their 
j waist are hooted at, derided, and fined. In 
this way, every one keeps guard on Iiis 
stomach, so as not to look like a wine-skin 
on stilts.” 

“ Tlie custom is a good one ; I regret 
that it has fallen into disuse in my prov- 
ince. But pray tell me what you do with 
that great old-fashioned chest r The wood 
is precious, and it seems very ancient.” 

“Very ancient. It is the trophy-chest 
of my family,” said Joel, opening tho chest, 
in which tho traveler saw several bleached 
skulls. One of them had been sawed in 
two and mounted on a brass stand in the 
fashion of a cup. 

“These are doubtless the heads of ene- 
mies killed by your fathers, friend Joel. 
Among us, this kind of family charnel- 
house was long since abandoned.” 

“ And among us also. I preserve these 
skulls through respect for my ancestors; 
for it is more than two hundred years since 
prisoners of war were mutilated in this 
manner. This custom dates back to tho 
times of tho kings whom Bitha Gawr 
shaved, as you say, to make himself a 
sagum of their beards. That was in tho 
days of barbarism, Avhich passed away with 
royalty. I have heard my grandfather 
Kirio say that, even in the lifetime of his 
father 'liras, tho warriors returned to their 
tribe with the heads of their enemies plant- 
ed on tho end of their lances or fastened by 
tho hair to their horses’ manes ; after 
which they wore nailed to tho doors of tho 
houses as trophies, as you see tho heads of 
wild beasts nailed here to tho wall.”t 

“Among us in olden times, friend Joel, 
these trophies were also kept, but the heads 
of our enemies’ chiefs were preserved in 
cedar oil.” 

“ By llesus ! in cedar oil ! what luxury !” 
said Joel, laughing. “‘A good fish needs 
good sauce,’ as tho housewives say.” 

“These relics among us, as among you, 
were tho books from which tho young Gaul 
learned tho exploits of his ancestors. 'I’he 
families of tho vanquished often sought to 
redeem these spoils, but for a man to 


* “ To hare a fine, military bearing and to pre«erve 
their lightness and agilily ” says Ani6.163 Thierry, 
‘Mvos regarded among the Gauls as a point of honor 
and a dc.ty to tlie country. The young men went 
at regular Intervals to measun their waists by a belt 
deposited with tho chief of the -ribe. Ttioso who ex- 
ceeded the official s^and ird of corpulence were teverely 
reprimanded as idle and dissolute, and were punished 
by a fine.” 

t “ Tho heads of enemies renowned for their courage,” 
says T-ivy, “ were depofited in grear. chests; in itie-:e 
books tho young Gauls studied the exploits of their 
ances'nrs, and each strove to add a new page thereto.” 
These barbarous cu-toms. however, had been long since 
abandoned at the time of this story. 


part for money with a bead thus conquered 
by himself or his fathers, was a crime of 
unexampled avarice and impiety. I say, 
like you, that those b.arbarous customs 
passed away with the kings, as ^yell as 
those of tho times avhen our ancestors dyed 
their faces and bodies bLuo and scarlet, and 
dipped their hair and beards into lime- 
water in order to make them of a brilliant 
red.”* 

“ Without meaning to insult their mem- 
ory, friend guest, our ancestors could not 
thus have been very pleasing to tho 
eye, and must have resembled tho fright- 
ful red and blue dragons that serve 
as figure-heads to tho vessels of those 
terrible Northern pirates of which my 
son Albiuik tho sailor and his haiid- 
somo wife Meroo has told us such curious 
stories. But hero are our kinsmen return- 
ing from tho sheep-folds; wo shall not have 
to wait long now for supper, for Margarid 
is taking tho sheep from tho spit. You 
shall try them, my friend, and see what a 
fine flavor tho salt meadows on which they 
feed give their flesh.” 

All the men of tho family of Joel that 
entered the hall wore, like him, a sagum 
or blouso of coarse stuff, without sleeves, 
allowing those of tho white linen shirt or 
tunio to pass through; their braga, or 
trowsers, fell to tbo auklos, and they were 
shod with wooden shoes. A few of tho 
husbandmen, wlio had just come from the 
fields, had loose shcepskiu jackets ou their 
shoulders, which they threw aside. All 
had Avooleii caps; their hair was long and 
clipped round, and their beard was flowing. 
'I’ho last two that entered were arm-in-arm; 
they were remarkably handsome and ro- 
bust. 

“ Friend Joel, who are those two young 
men?” asked the stranger, “'i'he statues of 
tho Pagan god Mars are not more faultless, 
and have not a more heroic air.” 

“ They are two of my kinsmen — ^two 
cousins-^ ulyan and Armcl ; they love 
each other like brothers. A furious bull 
lately rushed at Armel, and Julyaii saved 
liim at tho peril of his life. llesus be 
thanked! we are not at war; but if over 
wo are forced to take up arms, July an and 
Armel have sworn to bo saldunes-t Ah ! 
supper is ready. Come, the seat of honor 
belongs to you.” 

Joel and the stranger approached the 
table ; it was round, and slightly elevated 
above tho ground, which was covered with 


* Theso customs were common among the Gauls and 
Germans. 

t Ariong the Gauls, says Cmsar, those who called 
themselves euhluncs swoie alwa\3 to sha^e tho same 
fato, whether they were attached to a chief or fought 
together, llapry and rich, they sh.areil each other’s 
pros erity ; unhappy and i)oor, they shared each other’s 
reverses. If one perished by violence, the other killed 
himself. 


60 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


fresh straw. Around the table were bench- 
es, cushioned with fragrant hay. The two 
roasted sheep, cut up in quarters, w'cre 
served on largo beechen platters, as white 
as ivory ; there were also huge pieces of 
salt pork, and a smoked boar’s hara ; the fish 
remained in the great copper kettle in 
which it had hcen*ljoiled. 

By the place where Joel, the head of the 
family, took his seat, was seen an immense 
cup of plate'll copper, which two thirsty 
men could no., have drained. Before this 
cup, which marked the seat of honor, the 
stranger took his place, with Joel at his 
right hand and Mamm’ Margarid at his left. 
The old men, women, young girls and chil- 
dren then took their places around the ta- 
ble ; the middle-aged men and youths ranged 
themselves behind, in a second row of seats, 
from which they rose now and then to per- 
form the duties of attendants in turn, go- 
ing from time to time to replenish tlio 
great cup from a cask of hydroinel in the 
corner, when it had been emptied by pass- 
ing from Jiand to hand, beginning with the 
stranger. Each one, furnished-with apiece 
of barley or wheat bread, received or helped 
liimsclf to a slice of roast or salt meat, 
whicn he tore with his teeth or cut witli 
his knife. The old wmr-dog, Deber Trud, 
enjoying the privilege of his years and 
long services, lay at the feet of Joel, who 
did not forget this faithful servant. 

Towai-d the end of the meal, Joel, having 
sliced \ip the boar’s ham, cut off the foot,* 
according to an ancient custom, and gave 
it to his yoimg kinsman, Armel, saying, 
“To you, Armel, belongs the morsel of the 
brave; to you, the victor in last night’s 
wrestling match.” 

Just as Armel, exulting at being ac- 
knowledged as the bravest in the presence 
of the stranger, stretched out his hand to 
take the boar’s foot, presented him by Joel, 
a dwarf belonging to the family, called 
Rabouziguetl, or little man, on account of 
his small stature, exclaimed, “ Armel was 
victorious in last night’s match because 
Julyan did not wrestle Avith him ; two bulls 
of equal strength are always afraid of each 
other, and never fight.” 

Julyan and Armel, humiliated at hearing 
it said before a stranger that they did not 
wrestle together because they feared each 
other, turned crimson, and Julyan cried, 
with sparkling eyes, “If I did not wrestle 
with Armel, it w’as because some one else 
was before me : but Julyan is net any more 
afraid of Armel, than Armel is of Julyan, 
and if you were a cubit taller, Babouzigued, 
I would show on the spot, beginning with 


you, that I am afraid of no one, not even of 
my good brother Armel.” 

“ JMy good brother Julyan,” returned 
Armel, whoso eyes also began to sparkle, 
“ Ave ought to prove to tho stranger that Ave 
are not afraid of each other.” 

“ Agreed, Armel, let us fight with sword 
and buckler.” 

“ Agreed, Julyan.”* 

Tho tAvo friends shook hands warmly, 
for these young men Avere moved by no ill- 
Avill, but loved each other as much as over, 
and were about to fight only through ex- 
cess of valor. Joel was not displeased to 
see his kinsmen boar themselves bravely 
before his guest, and the family shared his 
feelings. At tho announcement of tho con- 
test, all, to the little children, Avives and 
maidens, were delighted, and clapped their 
hands, smiling and looking at each other, 
proud of the good idea that tho stranger 
would have of tho courage of their family. 

Mamm’ Margarid then said to tho young 
men, “Tho contest must cease when I lay 
down my distaff.” 

“ These children are doing their best to 
entertain you, friend guest,” said Joel to 
the stranger; “you AA'ill entertain them, in 
turn, by telling them, as Avell as us, of the 
wonderful things you have seen in your 
travels.” 

“ I will requite your hospitality as well 
as I can, my friend,” replied tho stranger. 
“ I will tell you the stories you Avish.” 

“Como, let us make haste, brother Ju- 
lyan,” said Armel, “ I am anxious to hear 
the traveler. I should never tiro of listen- 
ing to stories; but story-tellers are rare at 
Karnak.” 

“ You see, my friend,” said Joel, “ with 
what impatience your stories are expected ; 
but before beginning them, to give you 
strength, you shall presently drink the 
health of tho victor in good old Gallic 
wine.” Then turning to his son, “ Guil- 
hern,” said he, “go bring that little cask 
of Avhito wine from Beziers Avhich your 
brother Albinik brought us on his last, 
voyage, and fill the cup in honor of tho 
traveler.” 

When this was done,.^’’Ael said to Armel : 

“ Come, children, to a'ltms ! to arms !” 


* “ After their meais,” says Posid taiu"!, “the Gauls 
were fond of taking up arms and cliailcnging each other 
(o feigned duels. At first it was nautrht but sport, and 
they attacked and parried playful y, but if they chanced 
to wound each Ollier, they warmed to the contest, and 
fought 60 fiercely that if the spectators did not hasteu to 
separate them, one remained on the field.” 


* “ It was formerly the usage,” says Posidonius, “ to 
give the foot or thigh of the animal to tne bravest of the 
guests, or to him who claimed to be such. If any one 
dared to dispute it with him, a deadly combat ensued.” 


THE GOLDEN SICKLE. 


61 


CHAPTER HI. 

Combat of Julyan and Armel. — ^famm’ Ma<'garld low- 
ers her distalT too la!e. — Death of Armel. — Str.mge 
commissions given the dying. — The substitute. — Pay- 
ment by Uabjuzigued of the debt beyond the grave. — 
Armel dies grieved at not having heard the traveler’s 
stories — Jnlyan promises to go and repeat them to 
him cl3ewh''re. — The stranger begirs his stories. — 
Story of Albrega. the Gallic woman of tho banks of 
the Khine.— Margarid. in turn, relates the story other 
ancestor, Siom ira, and the profligate Uoman officer. — 
Tho stranger harshly reprraches Joel for his lave cf 
stories, and tells him that the time has come to take 
np the lauce and sword. 

The numerous family of Joel, ranged in 
a semi-circle at tlio lower end of the great 
hall, impatiently awaited tho contest, while 
Slamm’ Margnrid, with the stranger at 
her right htmd, Joel at her left, and the 
two smallest children on her lap, gave the 
signal for battle by raising her distaff. 

Julyan and Armel stripped themselves 
to the waist, keeping nothing but their 
brago. They again shook hands, took on 
their left arm a wooden buckler covered 
■w'ith seal-skin, armed themselves with a 
heavy copper sword,* and fell impetuously 
on each other, more and more animated by 
tho presence of tho stranger, in whoso eyes 
they were anxious to display their address 
and courage. The guest of Joel seemed 
bettor pleased than any one at tho proposal 
of tho contest; his focc appeared to all 
more manly and prouder than before. 

Julyan and Armel struggled with all 
their might. Their eyes sparkled, not with 
hatred, bat with a jiroud excess of valor; 
and they exchanged Avords, not of anger, 
but of friendly jocularity, Avhilo dealing 
each other terrible blows, which would, 
indeed, have been mortal, had they not 
been adroitly avoided. At each lunge, bril- 
liantly made, or dexterously parried by 
moans of tho buckler, men, women, and 
children clapped their hand.«, and cried, 
according as tho battle turned, “ Her, her, 
Julyan !'■' or “Her, her, Armel k'f Tho 
cries, the sight of tho combatants, and the 
noise of the weapons, oven aroused the 
martial ardor of tho old war-dog, Deber 
Trud, who groAvled fiercely, looking at his 
master, Avho soothed him by stroking him 
with his hand. 

Already the perkpiration trickled from 
the beautiful, youthful, and robust bodies 
of Julyan and Armel, equal in courage, 
vigor, and agility, but they had not yet 
touched each other. 

“Let US mako haste, brother Julyan,’’ 
said Armel, springing on his companion 
witli new impetuosity. “ Let us mako 
haste, that avo may listen to tho beautiful 
stories cf tho traveler.” 


* For a long lime, and even at (he epoch of the Roman 
Invasion, the Gauls used nothing but well-sharpened 
coi'per Fworils. 

t -‘rier, her !”— a cry of encouragement of the Gauls, 
analogous to the “ Kvohe !” of the Romans. 


“ The plow cannot go faster than the 
husbandman, brother Armel,” answered Ju- 
lyan. Saying this, he seized his sword 
Avith both liands, drew himself np to his 
full height, and dealt his adversary so 
furious a blow that, although tho latter, 
springing backAvard, attempted to parry it 
Avith his buckler, the buckler Avas splint- 
ered in pieces, and the SAvord struck Armel 
so heavily on tho temple that, after stagger- 
ing for a moment in the effort to keep his 
feet, ho fell his whole length, Avhilo all 
present, admiring the dexterous blow, clap- 
ped their hands, crying, “ Her, her, Julyan,” 
llabouzigucd, above all tho rest. 

Mamm’ Margarid, after laying doAvn 
her distaff, to denote the end of the combat, 
Avent to look after tho wounded youth, 
while Joel said to tho stranger, handing 
him the great cup, “ Friend guest, drink 
this old Avino to tho triumph of Julyan!” 

“I drink to tho triumph of Julyan, and 
also to the A^aliant defeat of Armel,” re- 
plied tho stranger, “for tho courage of tho 
vanquished equals tho courage of tho vic- 
tor. I have seen many combats, but never 
moro bravery and address. Honor to your 
family, Joel ; honor to your tribe !” 

“Ill olden times, these festal combats 
took place among us almost every evening,” 
said Joel ; “ noAV they aro rare, Avrestling- 
matches having taken their place ; sword- 
fights, hoAvever, are moro after the fashion 
of tho old Gauls.” 

Maram’ Margarid, after examining the 
wounded man, shook her head tAvicc, Avhile 
Julyan supported his friend against the 
wall. Ono of tho young Avomcn hastened 
to bring a'small box filled Avith linen and 
balsam, and containing a little vessel full 
of mistletoe-water.* Tho blood Avas flow- 
'ug in torrents from tho Avound of Armel, 
and, when staunched by Mamm’ Margarid, 
disclosed tho pale face and half-closed eyes 
of tho vanquisJicd youth. 

“Brother Armel,” said Julyan, in a 
friendly tone, kucoliug beside him, “ brother 
Armel, do not give Avay to such a trifle; 
every ono has his day and hour. _ To-day 
you aro Avounded, to-morroAV it Avill bo I. 
We have fought like brave men. The 
stranger will remember tho youth of Kar- 
nak, and of the family of Joel, tho brenn of 
tho tribo.” 

Armel, his head drooping on his breast, 
and his brow already covered Avith a cold 
SAVoat, did not appear to hear his triend’s 
voico. Mamm’ Margarid shock her head 
anew, and called for somo lighted coals, 
Avhich Avero brought her on a small stone; 
sho thrcAV on them somo pulverized mis- 
tletoe-bark; a thick vapor roso from the 
coals, which she held under Armel’s nos- 


* The mistletoe, bcinff a sacred plant, was considered 
a universal specific in Gaul. 


62 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE 


trils. In a few moments lie opened liis 
eyes, looked around him, as if waking 
from a dream, and said at last in a feeble 
voice, “ The angel of death calls rao ; I am 
going to live elsewliere.* My father and 
mother will bo surprised and glad to see 
mo again so soon. I shall also be glad to 
SCO tliem.’^ lie added, in a regretful tone. 
Nevertheless, 1 should have been very 
glad to hear the travelers beautiful stories.’’ 

“What! brother Armel,” exclaimed Ju- 
lyan, in a tone of surprise and grief, “ are 
you going to leave us so soon ? We were 
very happy together. W"o had sworn 
to "be saldimes, and never to quit each 
other.” 

“ Wo had sworn it, Julyan,” returned Ar- 
mol, fccblv, “ but it is otherwise decreed.” 

Julyan buried his faco in his hands and 
made no reply. Mamm’ Margarid, .vho Avas 
skilled in tho art of healing wounds, which 
she Lad learned of a Druidess, her kinswo- 
man, laid her hand on Armel’s heart. In a 
few ’moments she said to those present, Avho, 
like Joel and his guest, had croAvded round 
the wounded youth : 

“Toutates calls Armel, to conducUiim to 
tho abode of these aa'Iio haA’O gone before 
us ; he Avill speedily go thither. Let those 
who Avish to send any messages by Armel to 
their friends Avhom ho Avill meet oleeAvhero 
make haste.” Then, kissing tho forehead of 
tho dying youth, she said, “You Avill give 
to all our family tho kiss of remembrance 
and hope. Letters will bo deposited for 
them on your funoral-pilo to-morrOAV.f 

“ 1 Avill giAC them tho kiss of remern- 
brauce and hope for you, IMamm’ Margarid,” 
ansAvered Armel in a feeble voice. Then ho 
added in a tono of chagrin, “ Nevertheless, 
I should have been very glad to hoar tho 
traveler’s beautiful stories.” Theso words 
seemed deeply to impress Julyan, aa'Lo still 
supported his friend’s head, and gazed at 
him with a mournful air. 


* As we have already said, according to the Druldical 
faith, men did not die ; the soul quitted this world fur 
another, where it ]>ut on a new floihly covering. This 
faith in the peiqipluify of life, tr in successive stages if 
existence, gave the Gauls tliat cont'mptcf death in all 
circumstances which is pcinted out by all tho h st.Tiuus 
of antiquity us the most characteristic feature of the 
race. Ari.stctlo asserts that the Gauls cani d their 
contempt of danger so far as to refuse to flee from a fall- 
ing Ifuse. Horace deflnes Gaul as the land wlcre the 
fear of death is unfelt. I'olyhius says that, while the 
humans did not go io'o battle till they had rendered 
themselves invulnerable, the Gauls, stripping them- 
selves of their < rd'na y garments, went tliither almost 
nalte I ; such were the foremost ranks td ihdr army, c im- 
posed ot l;io youngest, h iuds<ime;.i, and bravest of their 
number. At first sight, bef-re making the trial of 
the Bwoid, tho enemy hims' If felt a sort of terror at this 
superhuman lashuess. Wounded with two-edged uses, 
or pierced witli sword-ihrnsts, says rau-itinius, theardrir 
of their souls never cuuleil while they had breath ; they 
tore the arrows from their wounds, and used them 
against the Greeks. 

t Hiod I us Siculus says that the Gauls depodted let- 
ters to tho dci.d from their relatives t n the iuneral pile, 
tbnt they might be read by the defunct who had gone, 
before them. 


Little Sylvest, a rosv-cheeked, fair-lh'A’red 
cliild, stepped forward, holding tho band of 
his mother Ilenory, and said to tho dying 
Armel, “ I loved little Alunik dearly ; he 
kft us last yc.ar. Tell him that littio Syl- 
A’cstoften thinks of him, and kiss him for mo, 
Armel.” Then, lettiu" go of his mother’s 
hand, tho child pressed Tiis infantile lips to 
the cold forehead of the dj-ing youth, Avho 
answered Avith a smile : 

“ I Avill kiss 1 ittlo Alanik for you, Syl\'est.” 
Then ho added again, “ Nevertheless, I 
should have been very glad to hear tho trav- 
eler’s beautiful stories.” 

Another of tho family of Joel said to the 
dying 3 'outb, “ I Avas a friend of our neigh- 
bor llouarnc, of tho tribe of ^loiTcch. He 
Avas killed Avhilo sleeping, defenseless, a 
short time since. Tell him, Armel, that Iiis 
murderer Daoulashas been discovered, tried 
and condeumed by tho Druids of Karnak. 
and that his punishment Avill specdil}'- take 
place. Ilouarno Avill ho glad to learn of 
the punishment of Daoulas, his mur- 
derer.” 

• Armel made a sign that ho would tell 
Ilouarno this nCAVs. 

Raboasigued, Avbo had been the cause of 
all this, not through Avickedness, but 
through tho iutempcranco of his tongue, 
also approached to givm a commission to 
him who Avas going to another world. “ You 
kiioAv,” said he, “that on tho eighth muon 
of this month, old JMark, Avho lives near 
Glcnhan, fell ill, and the angel of death told 
him also to prepare to depart speedily. 
Old Mark AA'as not ready ; ho Avished to bo 
present at bis granddaughter’s Avedding. 
Old Jlark not being road}’-, tliorefore, be- 
thought himself of finding some ono to go 
in his stead in order to satisfy tho angel of 
death, and asked tho Druid, his physician, 
Avhether ho knew of a substitute. ^ Tho 
Druid answered that Gigel of Nouariin, of 
our tribo, boro tho reputation of being 
obliging, and that perhaps ho Avould con- 
sent to go in tho place of old Mark, to do 
him a kindness and to bo pleasing to tho 
gods, Avlio are alwa 3-8 gratified by this kind 
of sacrifice. Gigel readily consented. Old 
Mark made him a present of ten silver 


* Posidonius says with respect to this strange custom, 
“ Wh-nevtr a Gaul fell teriously ill, he l egar.ioil it as a 
warning from the angel of dva'.h to hold himself in readi- 
ness l;) depart; but when he had important uffairsto 
finish, was anxious to live fur the sake of his family, ®r 
felt an aversion to death from any cause whatsoever. If 
none of his friends or kin-men were disposed (o go i;s 
his place, ho sent in search of a substitute, who soon 
came, nccempin'eJ by a troop of frieudJ, to stipu- 
late lor a sum of money as the price of his 1 1 lod, which 
ho orten distributed as a farewell gift ameng his com- 
panions. Sometimes this consisted merely of a ca<k of 
wine. A stige waserrectedand a kind < flestival given; 
tlien, the banquet Cni-hed, the hero slretc'icd Iiiinself 
on liis buckler i.ud bared Irs bo-om to the sacred knife.” 

This custom if onr fathers seems barb .rous in its 
native grandeur, but let us not f irget that in our days tho 
rich man who dreads tho fa'.igucs of a si-ldier's life or is 
afraid of dying in battle also buys a substitute. 


TEE GOLDEN- SICKLE. 


63 


horse-heads,* which Gigel distributed 
among his friends before his departure; 
then, joyfully emptying his last cup, ho 
extended bis neck to the sacred knife, amidst 
the songs of the bards. The angel of death 
accepted the exchange, for old Mark saAv 
his granddaughter married, and is to-day in 
good health.’’ 

“ Do jmu wish to go in my place, then, 
riabc)u."igived ?” asked Armel. “ I am afraid 
that it is too late.” 

“ No, no, I do not wish to go in your 
place,” llabousigued hastened to reply ; “ I 
only beg you to give Gigel those three 
pieces of silver that I owe him. I could 
not pay him before, and I am afraid that 
ho will come for them by moonlight in the 
shape* of a demon.” And llaboucigucd 
rummaged his little lamb-skin pouch for 
the throe pieces of silver, which ho found 
and placed in Armel’s sagura. 

“ 1 will give your money to Gigel,” said 
the dying youth, in an almost inaudible 
voice ; and ho murmured in Julyau’s ear, 
“ Nevertheless, I should have been very 
glad — to hear — the traveler’s — beautiful 
stories.” 

“ Ilest content, brother Armel,” then said 
Julyan, in a low tone; “I will listen atten- 
tively to tho beautiful stories this evening 
and learn them by heart, and to-morrow I 
will go and repeat them to you. It will bo 
dull for mo hero without you. Vfo have 
pledged our faith as saldunes never to quit 
e.vch other ; I will go, therefore, to live 
with you in tho other world.” 

“ Roally ! you will come ?” exclaimed 
Armel, whom this promise appeared to 
render very happy; “you will come to- 
morrow ?”t 

“ To-morrow, I swear to you by Ilesus 
that I will come.” 

And all tho family, on hearing tho prom- 
ise of Julyan, regarded him with esteem. 
Tho wounded youth appeared even better 
satisfied than the rest, and said to his 
friend, in a dying voice, “Then wo shall 
soon meet again, brother Julyan. Listen 
attentively to tlio stories. Now, farewell — 
farewell to all our tribe.” With these 
words, Armel waved his dying hands 
toward those around him. And as loving 
friends crowd round one of their number 
that is about to sot out on a long journey, 

* .Most rif the (liiltic coins were ^tanjped wall a Imrsc’s 
he/id. With respect lo the custom of cummissioniug the 
dying to pay debts beyond the tomb, and of coutrac ing 
debts payable alter death — a custom which shows how 
deeply looted the belief in immortality was in the 
mind of the Gauls, I'omponius llcla says, “Loans 
were ma’tt to ba repaid iu another world, and tho pay- 
ment of debts was even postponed till alter dea h.” 
“ After quit ing the walls of Marseilles,” says Valerius, 
“ 1 found the old Gallic custom of lending money to ho re- 
paid after death ; ’ for the Gauls are persuaded that the 
B Ills of men are immortal.” 

t “S'liiie of the Gauls,” says PomponiusMela, “pla-c 
themselvss voluntarily on tho funeral-pile of their 
friurultf, wishing to continue to live with them after 
death.” 


in which he will meet persons dear to the 
memory of all, so eacli ono shook Armel 
by tho hand, and gave him tender messages 
tor those cf tho family or tribe whom ho 
would soon behold. 

When Armel was dead, Joel closed the 
eyes of his kinsman, and caused him to ho 
carried to tho stone altar, on which was 
the copper basin with tho mistletoc-twigs. 
TJjo body was then covered with cal:- 
houghs stripped from tho altar, so tliat in a 
few moments nothing was visible of the 
corpse but a mound of verdure, by the side 
of which Julyan remained seated. Tho 
head of tho family then filled the great cup 
to tho brim with wino, moistened his lips 
ill it, and said, offering it to the stranger, 
“ May tho journey of Armel bo happy, for 
Armel has always been just and good; 
may Teutates bo his guido through tho 
marvelous spheres and countries beyond 
tho tomb, which none of us have yet visited, 
hut where wo shall all go; and may Armel 
soon meet all whom wo Iiavo loved, and 
assure them that wo still cherish their 
memory.” 

Tho cup went round, and the women and 
young girls offered up prayers for Armcl’s 
prosperous journey. Tho remains cf tho 
supper wero thou removed, and all seated 
themselves round tho hearth, impatiently 
waiting for tlio stories promised by tho 
traveler. Tho latter, seeing all eyes fixed 
on him with cariosity, said to Joel : 

“ Then you wish mo to tell you a story ?” 

“ A story !” exclaimed Joel. “ Say, rather, 
twenty stories — a hundred stories ! You, 
who have seen so many things, men, and 
countries, to talk of ono story ! Ah ! bv 
tho good Ogmi, you will not ho let off witn 
one story, friend guest !” 

“ Oh, no ; oh, no 1” repeated all the 
members of the family, with a determined 
air, “wo must have more than ono story.” 

“ Yet there is something better to do, in 
these times, than to relate and tell frivolous 
tales,” B.aid the stranger, with a pensive and 
austere air. 

“ I do not understand you,” returned 
Joel, not less surprised than his family; 
and all gazed silently, for a moment, at the 
stranger. 

“No, you do not understand mo, I see,” 
replied tho latter, sadly. “Then I will 
keep my promise ; a thing promised is a 
thing owed,” ho added, pointing to Julyan, 
Avho still sat at the end of tho hall, by tho 
body of Armed covered with foliage; “this 
young man must havo something to repeat 
to his friend to-morrow, when ho goes to 
rejain him in another world.” 

“Proceed, our guest,” answered Julyan, 
with his faco still buried in his hands; 
“ the story, tho story ! I will not lose a 
word ; Armel shall have the story precisely 
as you tell it.” 


I 


64 , THE MYSTERIES 

“Two years ago, when I was traveling 
among the Gauls, on tho banks of the llhiiie,'' 
resumed the stranger, “ I found myself one 
day at Strasburg. 1 left the city to walk on 
the banks of the river. Before long I saw a 
great crowd of people coming toward me, 
following a man and woman, both young 
and beautiful, who were carrying a shield 
between them, on which lay a babo only a 
few days old. The man seemed anxious 
and gloomy, the woman "svas pale and calm. 
Both stopped on the bank of the river, at a 
place Avhero tho current is rapid. The 
crowd stopped with tho two persons Avhoin 
they were following. I approached and 
asked some one who tho man and woman 
were. ‘The man is named Vindorix, and 
tho woman Albrega; they are husband and 
wife,’ was tho ansAver. I then saAV Vindorix, 
with a still gloomier air, approach his wife 
and say, ‘ Behold, the time has come.’ 

“ ‘ Do you insist on it?’ answered Al- 
brega ; ‘ do you insist on it V’ 

“ ‘ Y es,’ returned the husband. ‘ I doubt, 
I desire certainty.” 

“ ‘ So lot it be,’ she replied. 

“ Then, taking up the buckler on which 
his little child lay smiling and stretching 
out its arms to him, Vindorix Avaded to his 
waist into the river, and raised tho buckler 
and tho infant for an instant above his 
head, turning round toward his Avife for 
the last time, as if to threaten her with 
what he Avas about to do j but she stood 
erect on the bank, Avith an uplifted broAV 
and firm glance, as motionless as a statue, 
with her arms folded on her breast. In re- 
ply, she stretched her right hand toward 
her husband, as if to say, ‘ Do it.’ A shud- 
der ran through tho crowd, for Vindorix, af- 
ter placing tho buckler containing his child 
on tho Avaves, abandoned tho frail bark to 
tho rapid current.” 

“O tho Avicked man!” cried Mamm’ 
Margarid, moved by the recital, as well as 
all tho family of Joel. “ And his Avife, his 
wife, Avho remained on tho bank ?” 

“ But what Avas the cause of this cruelt 3 ^ 
friend guest?” asked Ilenory, Guilhern’s 
young Avife, cmbraciug her children, little 
Sylvest and Siomara, and clasping them to 
her breastasiffearing alike danger for them. 
Tho stranger put an end to these questions 
by motioning for silence, and proceeded. 

“ Scarcely had the current borne aAvay tho 
buckler ami the child Avhen tho father rais- 
ed his clasped and trembling hands to 
heaven, as though invoking tho aid of the 
gods. lie IblloAA'ed tho buckler Avith his 
eyes, with gloomy anguish, leaning to tho 
right if it inclined to tho right, or to tho 
loft if it inclined to tho left. Tho mother, 
on tho contrary, with her arms still folded 
on her breast, Avatched tho buckler Avith so 
firm and tranquil a gaze that she seemed to 
have no fears for her child.” 


OF THE PEOPLE. 

“ No fears,” exclaimed Guilhern, “ on see- 
ing her child thus exposed to almost certain 
death — for of course it perished!” 

“What an unnatural mother!” cried 
Ilenory. 

“ And not a man in the crowd to throw 
himself into tho river and save tho child !” 
said Julyan, thinking of his friend. “Oh ! 
hoAv this Avill incense Armel’s kind heart 
when I tell him the story.” 

“ Do not keep interrupting every mo- 
ment,” said Joel. “Proceed, friend guest; 
may Teutates, who watches over travelers 
in ibis and other Avorlds, protect the poor 
babe !” 

“Twice the buckler and child were well- 
nigh swallowed up by one of tho Avhirl- 
pools of tho river,” resumed tho stranger. 
“The mother alone did not move. Ero 
long tho shield Avas seen floating like a lit- 
tle skiff on the smooth waters below. Then 
all tho crowd cried, clapping their hands, 
‘The boat! tho boat!’ Two men ran, 
launched a boat, and, rowing Avith all their 
might, in a few moments reached the buck- 
ler and drew it from the water, together 
Avith the sleeping infant.” 

“ Thank the gods ! it is saved,” cried the 
family pf Joel Avith one voice, as if deliv- 
ered from painful anxiety. 

Tho stranger continued, perceiving that 
ho was about to be interrupted by new 
questions : 

“ While they Avere rescuing tho buckler 
and child from- tho water, tho father, Vin- 
dorix, Avhoso features were as radiant as 
they had before been gloomy, rushed to his 
Avife, and cried, opening his arms to her, 
‘Albrega, Albrega, you spoke truly; you 
have been faithful to me!’ 

“ But Albrega, repulsing her husband by 
a gesture, replied proudly, ‘ Certain of my 
honor, I did not fear the ordeal. I was 
tranquil respecting tho fate of my child; 
tho gods could not punish an innocent 
mother by destroying her son. But a 
Avoman suspected is a Avoman outraged. I 
shall keep my child, and you, who doubted 
the honor of your Avife, Avill never behold 
either of us more.’ 

“ At this moment, tho child was brought 
back in triumph. Tho mother threw her- 
self on it like a lioness on her young, and 
clasped it passionately in her arms, shower 
iug eager kisses oa it Avith a violence pro- 
portioned to her past calmness and seren- 
ity, then fled with it as though escaping 
Avitii her prey.” 

“ Ah ! she was a u’ue Gallic woman !” 
said the Avifo of Guilhern. “ ‘ A woman sus- 
pected is a Avoman outraged ’ — these are 
proud words ; I like them.” 

“But,” resumed Joel, “is this ordeal, 
then, a custom among tho Gauls of the 
Bhino ?” 

“ Yes,” replied the stranger. “ When a bus- 


Tin: GOLDKX SICKLE. 


65 


band suspects his wife of beiug unfaithful i 
to him, he places her new-born babe on a ; 
buckler, and exposes it in the current of the 
river. If the child continues to float, the 
innocence of the wife is proved • if it is 
swallowed up in the waves, the crime of 
the mother is made manifest.’^* 

“ And how was this courageous woman 
dressed asked Henory, the wife of Guil- 
ihem. “ Did she wear a tunic like ours ?” 

“No; the tunic of these people is very 
short and of two colors ; the bodice blue, 
for instance, and the skirt red.” 

“ And their caps,” asked a young girl, 

“ are they white and square like ours ?” 

“No, they are black and round, and are 
often embroidered with gold and silver 
thread.” 

“ And what of their bucklers ?” asked 
Guilhern; ‘tare they made like ours?” 

“ They are longer,” replied the traveler, 
“and are painted in squares, usually red 
and white.” 

“ And how are their marriages perform- 
ed ?” asked a young girl. 

“ And are their flocks as fine as ours ?” 
questioned an old man. 

“ And have they bold fighting-cocks like 
us ?”'f asked a child. 

Joel, seeing the stranger so overwhelm- 
ed with questions, cried, “ Enough, enough ; 
give our friend time to breathe ; you 
scream round him like a flock of gulls.” 

“ And do they pay the money that they 
owe to the dead, like us ?” asked Rabou- 
zigued, in spite of Joel’s injunction to put 
no more questions to the stranger. 

“ Yes, their custom is like ours,” replied 
the stranger; “they are not idolaters like 
a man from Asia, whom I met at Mar- 
seilles, and who pretended, according to his 
religion, that we continue to live after 
death, not in the form of men, but of ani- 
mals.” 

“ Her, her !” cried Rabouzigued, in great 
anxiety. “If that is the case, Gigel, who 
sacrificed himself in the place of old Mark, 
perhaps inhabits the body of a fish, and I 
have sent him three pieces of silver by 
Armel, who, perhaps, at this moment is 
living in the body of a bird. How conld a 
bird give money to a fish ? Her, her !” . 

“Our friend tells you that this belief 
is idolatry, Rabouzigued,” returned Joel, 
stern ly . “ x our fears, therefore, are impious.” 

“ It must be so,” said J ulyan, sadly ; 
“for what would become of me, who am 
going to rejoin Armel to-morrow, accord- 
ing to my oath and for our friendship’s 
sake, if 1 should find him a bird, myself 
being, j^erhaps, a stag of the forests or an 
an ox ot the fields ?” 


* This ordeal is described by Martin, Thierry and 
other hisloriacs. 

t The Gallic flphting-cocks, the image of which sur- 
mounted the battle-flags, were in great request. 


“ Fear nothing, young man,” said the 
stranger to Julyan ; “the religion of Ilesus 
is the only true faith ; it teaches us that after 
death we shall live again in bodies younger 
and more beautiful than before.” 

“ Such is my hope,” said the dwarf, Ra- 
bouzigued. 

“ What a fine thing it is to travel !” re- 
sumed J cel “ how many things one learns ! 
But hold, in order not to be behind you, 
friend guest, wo will give you story for 
story. Ask Margarid to tell you the noble 
deed of her ancestress almost a hundred 
and thirty years ago, at the time when our 
fathers went to Asia to found New Gaul, 
for there are few countries in the world 
which their feet did not tread.” 

“ After your wife’s story,” returned the 
stranger, “ since you wish to speak of our 
fathers, for my part, I have also something 
to say of them; and, by Ritha Gawr! 
never was the moment better chosen ; for, 
while we are telling each other stories 
here, you know not what is taking place 
elsewhere. You are ignorant that at this 
very moment, perhaps — ” 

“ Why do you stop ?” said Joel, in sur- 
prise. “What is it that is taking place 
elsewhere while we are telling stories? 
And how can we better pass the time in the 
chimney-corner, during the long, cold oven- 
ings of autumn?” 

Instead of replying, the stranger turned 
to Mamm’ Margarid, and said respectfully, 
“ I will listen to the story of the wife of 
Joel.” 

“It is a very simple story,” answered 
Margarid, still plying her distaff. “ The 
story is as simple as the deed of my ances- 
tress. She was called Siomara.” 

“ And in honor of her,” said Guilhern, in- 
terrupting his mother, and pointing with 
{jride to an eight-year old child, of wonder- 
ful beauty, “in honor of our ancestress, 
Siomara, who was as brave as she wms 
beautiful, I bave given her name to the lit- 
tle. girl you see here.” 

“ A more charming child never was seen,” 
said the stranger, struck by the loveliness 
of little Siomara. “ I am certain she will 
have the heroism of her ancestress, as she 
already has her beauty.” 

Henory, the mother of the child, blushed 
with pleasure at these words, and said to 
Mamm’ Margarid, smiling, “I dare not 
blame Guilhern for interrupting you, since 
it has won mo such a compliment.” 

“ This compliment is as sweet to me as 
to you, my daughter,” answered Mamm’ 
Margarid, as she resumed her story. 

“ My ancestress was named Siomara ; she 
was the daughter of Ronan. Her father 
took her with him to Lower Languedoc, 
where lie went to trade. The Gauls of that 
country were then preparing for an expedi- 
tion to the East. Their chie^ who waa 


C6 


Tni: T.iYSTr.rjES of the people. 


named Oriegon, saw my ancestress, was 
struck by her great beauty, won her love, 
and married her. Siomara set out with her 
husband on the Eastern expedition. At first 
the Gauls triumphed, then they were at- 
tacked by the Romans, who were always 
jealous of the Gallic conquests. In one of 
these engagements, Siomara, who, through 
duty and pleasure, accompanied Oriegon, 
her husband, to battle in her chariot of 
wav, was separated from him during the 
confiict, taken prisoner, and placed in the 
charge of an avaricious and profligate Ro- 
man officer. This Roman, struck with the 
great beauty of Siomara, attempted to se- 
duce her and was repulsed. Taking^ ad- 
vantage of his captive’s sleep, he committed 
violence on her.” 

“ Do you hear, Joel ?” exclaimed the 
stranger with indignation, “ do you hoar ? 
The ancestress of your wife- endured such 
an outrage from a Roman !” 

“ Listen to the end of the story, friend 
guest,” returned Joel, “and you will see 
that Siomara Avas worthy of the Gallic 
woman of the Rhine.” 

“Both alike showed themselves faithful 
to this maxim,” continued Margarid : 
“ There are three phases of modesty in the 
Gallic Avomen : the first, Avlien her father 
declares, in her presence, that ho gives her 
hand to him she loves ; the second, when she 
enters the nuptial-chamber ; and the third, 
when she appears again before men. The 
Roman had outraged Siomara, his captive, 
liis desires satisfied, ho offered her liber- 
ty in exchange for a ransom. She aceeptod 
the proposal and induced the Roman to send 
one of her servants, a prisoner like herself, 
to the camp of the Gauls, to tell Oriegon, 
or his friends, in his absence, to l)ring the 
ransom to a designated spot. The avari- 
cious Roman, wishing to receive the ran- 
som himself Avithout being obliged to share 
it with any one, conducted Siomara alone 
to the place agreed on. The friends of Orie- 
gon were there Avith the pold for the ran- 
som. 'While the Roman Wi.3 eounting out 
the sum fixed, Siomara, addressing the Gauls 
in their own tongue, commanded them to 
slay the wretch. This done, she cut off his 
head and, putting it in the skirt of her 
dress, returned to the Gallic camp. Oriii- 
gon, Avho had likewise been taken prisoner, 
had succeeded in escaping, and reached the 
camp at the same time with his Avifo. The 
latter, at the sight of her husband, let the 
head of the Roman fall at his feet, and, ad- 
dressing Oriegon, said, ‘ This is the head of 
a man Avho had outraged me. None but 
thyself can now boast of having possessed 
me.’ 

The story finished, Mamm’ Margarid con- 
tinued to ply her distaff. 

* This historical incident is related by Henri llartin 
and other historians. 


“ Did I not tell you, friend,” said Joel, 
“that Siomara — Margarid’s ancestress — was 
worthy of the woman of the Rhine ?” 

“ And ought not this noble name to bring 
happiness to my daughter ?” added Guil- 
hern, tenderly kissing the fair head of his 
child. 

“ This noble and modest story is worthy 
of the lips that have related it,” said the 
stranger. “ It proves, too, that the Ro- 
mans, our implacable enemies, have not 
changed. Covetous and profligate — such 
they Avere, such they are still. And since 
Ave gre on the subject of covetous and 
profligate Romans, and you like stories,” 
added he , with a bitter smile, “knoAvthat 
I have been to Rome, and that I have seen 
Julius Cassar, the most famous of the 
Roman generals, and also the most avari- 
cious and infamous debauchee that there is 
in all Italy ; his profligacy is shch that I 
Cannot speak of it in the ears of your Avives 
and maidens.” 

“So you have seen the famous Julius 
Ccesar ! What kind of a man is he ?” ask- 
ed Joel, with curiosity. 

The stranger looked at the brenn as 
though greatly surprised by his question, 
and replied, appearing to try to curb his 
auger : 

“ Caesar is approaching middle ago ; h 
is of middle stature; ho has along, thin face 
pale complexion, black eyes, and bald 
head ; Imt, as this man unites in himself all 
the vices of the most profligate Roman 
women, lie is, like them, vain of his person. 
To conceal his baldness, therefore, ho al- 
Avays wears a wreath of golden loaves on 
his broAV. Is your curiosity satisfied, Joel ? 
Would you also like to knoAV that Ccesar 
has the falling sickness — would you like to 
knoAv — ” 

The stranger abruptly stopped short, 
and looking angrily round on the fiimily of 
the brenn, exclaimed : 

“ By the wrath of Ilesus ! are you all 
ignorant, then — so many of you as there 
are hero fit to Avield the sword, yet thirst- 
ing after idle tales — are you ignorant, 
then, that a Roman army, under the com- 
mand of Ccesar, after invading half our 
provinces, has taken up its winter quarters 
in Orleanais, Touraino, and Anjou ?” 

“ Yes, yes ; avo have heard of these 
things,” said Joel, calmly; “some people 
from Anjou, avIio came here to buy cattle 
and hogs, told us of them.” 

“And is it Avith this indifference that 
you speak of the invasion of Gaul by the 
Romans?” cried the traveler. 

“Never have the Breton Gauls been in- 
vadod by strangers,” proudly replied the 
brenn of the tribe of Karuak. “ \Vc shall 
always remain free from such a stain. ^Vo 
are independent of the Gauls of Poitou, 
Touraine, Orleanais, and the other provinces, 


THE GOLDEN SICKLE. 67 


as they are independent of us. They have 
not asked our assistance. We are not the 
ones to offer ourselves to their chiefs and 
to fight under their banners ; let each one 
protect his own honor and province. The 
Komans are in Touraine, but Touraino is a 
long way from here.’^ 

“ So that if the Northern pirates should 
slay your son, Albinik tl)e sailor, and his 
brave wife, Meroe, it would not affect you, 
because the murder would have been com- 
mitted far from hero 

“ You jest. My son is my son. The 
Gauls of other provinces than mine are not 
my sons V’ 

“Are you not the sons of one and the 
same God, as the Druid religion teaches 
you ? If this is so, are not all the Gauls 
brothers, and does not the subjugation or 
the Idood of a brother cry out for venge- 
ance ? So long, then, as the enemy is 
not at your door, you feel no anxiety. .As 
well might the hand, knowing the foot to 
be mortified, say, ‘ For my part, I am sound, 
and the foot is far from the hand. I Ijavo 
no reason, therefore, to trouble myself about 
it.’ But, the mortification not being ar- 
rested, spreads from the foot to the other 
members, and the whole body speedily 
perishes.” 

“ Unless the sound hand takes an axe 
and chops off the foot from which the 
disease comes,” said the brenn. 

“ And what becomes of a body thus 
mutilated, Joel ?” rejoined Mamm’ Mar- 
garid, who had listened in silence. “ When 
the fairest provinces of our country have 
been invaded by strangers, what will be- 
come of the rest of Gaul ? Thus mutilated 
and dismembered, how can it defend itself 
against its enemies ?” 

“The worthy spouse of my host speaks 
wisely,” said the traveler, respectfully ad- 
dressing Mamm’ Alargarid ; “ like every 
Gallic matron, she will fill her place in the 
public council as worthily as in the midst 
of her household.” 

“ You say truly,” returned Joel ] “ Mamm’ 
Margarid has a brave heart and a wise 
mind; her advice is often better than 
mine; I say it willingly. But this time I 
am right. Whatever may happen to the 
rest of Gaul, never will the Roman set 
foot in our old Brittany. She has for her 
safeguards her shoals, her marshes, her 
forests, her rocks, and, most of all, her 
Bretons.” 

“ At these words of her husband, Mamm’ 
Margarid shook her head, but all the men 
of Joel’s family applauded what he had 
said. 

The stranger resumed, with a gloomy 
air, “ Bo it so — a last story ; but may it fall 
on all )-our hearts like molten brass, since 
the wise words of the matron of the house 
have been in vain.” All looked at the 


stranger with surprise, as he began his 
tale. 


CHAPTER IV. 

The traveler relates the story which was to fall like 
molten brass on the heart of Joel, who had been mad 
enougli to answer tLat it was a long way from Tour- 
aine 10 Brittany — Joel is begicniiig to comprclieud 
the usefulness of the les’^oa, when his two sons, Mikael 
the armortr and Albinik the sailor, sndiicniy arrive 
from Auray, in the middle of the night, with terrible 
news. 

Tke traveler, with a stem and gloomy 
air, commenced his story as follows : 

“ For tho last two or three thousand 
years, perhaps, a family has been living 
hero in Gaul. From what country did this 
family come ere it first settled tho vast soli- 
tudes which are now so densely peopled? 
Probably from the recesses of A;-ia,^ that 
antique cradle of tho human race, now 
buried in tho darkness of ages. This fam- 
ily has always preserved a character which 
is peculiar to itself, and is found in no other 
nation of tho world — sincere, hospitable, 
generous, sprightly, gay and jesting, fond 
of relating and listening to stories, intrepid 
in battle, and braving death more heroically 
than any other people, because it kuows, 
through its religiou, the true nature of 
death. Such are the good qualities of this 
family. Giddy, roaming, presumptuous, 
inconstant, eager for novelty, more anxious 
to see new countries than to conquer them, 
making alliances as easy as breaking them, 
too haughty and fickle to submit or accom- 
modate its opinion to that of its neighbors, 
and incapable of long acting in concert 
with them, although the most important 
common interests m.ay bo at stake; these 
are the laults of this family. Good and 
bad, such ba.s it been for centuries, such is 
it to-day, and such will it be to-morrow.” 


* “ The fcwariin of (he Scillic and Celtic, or Gallic, 
nation;*, since the CJelts aie the first people known to 
have occupied Gaul, iiopelied by Providence tow.trd the 
continent of Europe,” says Jean Rt^-naud, ‘‘having 
come from the same mountains as the swarms of India 
and Asia, must necessarily have carried the same re- 
bgious creed thither. If the worship bcfoie tlie tame 
altars, in tho mountains of Asia, of unknown patriarchs 
who became the fathers of nations, suffices to explain 
the general affinities which are f .uud b tween the (;eltio 
(or Ga lie) swarms and these others, what difficulty is 
there in discovering still clo.ser affinities between the 
Celtic and Hebrew races?” Wbe-.ce it fol'ows, accord 
ing to Reynaud, who demon«tra;e.s it with irresistible 
liiitorical and logical power, that the Hebrew, Brahmin- 
ical, and Druitiical relig.oni sprung from the sime 
stock. The Hebrews, like the Gauls, for instance, had 
the grca'e t veneration for thi oak, as is proved by the 
oak of Stiechcm. As with the Gauls, unhewn stones 
were specially emp’oyed by the Hebrews for altars, and 
for other usei common to the two nations, serving, among 
tho Gauls .os well as annn j the Hebrews, for boundary- 
marks, tombs, and inonutnents c 'mmemorative of glori- 
ous deeds or of iiledgc I faiih. “ As far as we can trace 
back tho history of tho West,” says AmiJie Thierry, 
“ we find the Celt'c, become the Gallic race, occupying 
• he territory comprised between the Rhine, the Alps, the 
Mediterranean, and the Atlantic.” 


68 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


“ If I am not mistaken, Gauls as we all 
are, we are somewhat related to this family, 
eh said the brenn, laughing. 

“ Yes,’^ continued the stranger, “ to its 
own misfortune, and to the joy of the enemy, 
such has been and is the character of our 
people.” 

“Admit, at least, that, in spite of this 
character, these dear Gauls have made 
their way in the world ; for there are few 
lands where these curious vagabonds, as 
you call them, have not set their foot, with 
their head erect and their sword at their 
side.” 

“ You say truly ; such is our spirit of 
adventure — always to march forward to- 
ward what is unknown, rather than stop 
and establish our power. And this is why 
one-third of Gaul is to-day in the power of 
the Homans, while several centuries ago 
the Gallic race, through its exaggerated 
conquests, occupied, besides Gaul, England, 
Ireland, Upper Italy, the rigiit bank of the 
Danube, and the countries beyond the sea 
as far as Denmark ; and oven this was not 
thought sufficient, for it was affirmed that 
our race was destined to spread over the 
whole globe. The Gauls of the Danube 
went to Macedonia, Thrace, and Thessaly, 
while others, crossing the Bosphorus and 
the Hellespont, made their way to Asia 
Minor, founded New Gaul, and thus became 
arbiters of all the kings of the East.” 

“ Thus far,” said the brenn, “it seems to 
mo that wo have no reason to regret our 
character, which you judge so harshly.” 

“ What remains, then, of these mad en- 
terprises, undertaken by the pride of the 
kings who then reigned over Gaul ? Have 
not these distant conquests escaped our 
grasp? Have not the Romans, our im- 
placable and constantly increasing enemies, 
stirred up all these nations against us? 
Have we not been forced to abandon these 
useless possessions — Asia, Greece, Germany, 
and Italy? Such, therefore, is tho fruit of 
so much heroism and loss of blood ! This 
is whither tho ambition of tho kings who 
undertook to usurp tho power of the Druids 
has led us!” 

“ To this, I have nothing to answer. You 
are right ] it was not worth while to go so far 
to bring back on our feet nothing but the 
blood aud dust of foreign countries. But, if 
I am not mistaken, it was about these 
times that tho sous of the bravo Ritha GaAvr, 
who mado himself a sagum from the beards 
of the kings whom he had shaven, overthrew 
royalt}', seeing in these kings only tho 
butchers, and not the shepherds, of the peo- 
ple ?” 

“ Yes, thanks to the gods, an era of true 
greatness, peace and prosperity followed 
tho sterile and bloody conquests of tho 
kings. Rid of its useless possessions and 
reduced to the wide limits of its natural 


frontiers, the Rhine, the Alps, the Pyrenees, 
and the Ocean, the Republic of Gaul was 
the queen and the envy of tho world. Its 
fertile soil, cultivated as we know how to 
cultivate it, produced everything in abund- 
ance ;. its rivers were covered with merchant 
vessels ; its mines of gold, silver and copper 
daily increased its wealth, and flourish- 
ing towns rose on every side. The 
Druids, spreading enlightenment every- 
where, preached union to the provinces, 
and set the example thereof by convoking a 
solemn assembly once a year in the Chartres 
territory, the center of Gaul, where they dis- 
cussed the general interests of the country. 
Each tribe, canton and city, chose their 
magistrates; each province was a republic, 
which, according to tho idea of the Druids, 
blended with the great Republic of Gaul, 
and thus made a single body all-powerful 
by its union.* 

“ Our great-grandfathers beheld this 
happy day, friend guest !” 

“ And their sons beheld nothing but 
ruin and calamity. What was the cause ? 
The accursed race of tho dethroned kings 
allied themselves to tho not less accursed 
race of their former clansmen or lords, 
and all, incensed at being dispossessed 
of their authority, hoped to regain it 
through public calamities, and with infa- 
mous perfidy took advantage of the incon- 
stancy, pride and want of discipline of our 
character, already improved by tho power- 
ful influence of the Druids. The riralries 
between the provinces, which had long 
slumbered, were aroused ; jealousies and 
feuds sprang up anew in the republic, and 
the work of union was destroyed on all 
sides. Tho kings did not succeed, however, 
in a^ain mounting tho throne, and several 
of their descendants were executed by sen- 
tence of law ; but they had unchained party 
spirit. Civil war was kindled ; the power- 
ful provinces attempted to subjugate the 
weaker ones. At tho close of the last cen- 

• The history of the Gallic Government presents three 
distinct periods ; — Druidical theocracy ; royalty and 
aristocracy ; anil popular constitutions based on the 
will of the majority as ascertained by voting. Several 
centuries before Christ, popular suffrage replaced tho 
ancient privilege of inheritance. The kings and abso- 
lute chiefs were expelled, and the power jdaced in the 
hands of legislators chosen by the people. The heredi- 
tary aristocracy did not suiler themselves, however, to 
be dispossessed without battle ; supported by the people 
of the rural districts, they waged a long and varying 
warfare against the inhabitants of the towns. Tho 
government was a sort of pure democracy, in which the 
people, in a body, chose either sovereign senates or 
magistrates and chiefs, and in which, to use the expres- 
sion of one of these petty chiefs chosen by the people, 
the multitude had as much power over tho chief as the 
chief over the multitude. Tho whole political system of 
Gaul was bas^d on association ; in the same manner lhat 
individual clansmen grouped round their head, petty 
states declared themselves under tho patronage of a 
more powerful state, states alike powerful confederated 
together, and federative laws univcr.-ally recognized, 
regulated the relations between all these states, decreed 
the mutual services which they were to render each 
other, and delerm'ned their resi>ective rights and du- 
ties.” — Amedeo Thierry, History of the Gauls. 


THE GOLDEN SICKLE. 


69 


tury, for instance, the people of Marseilles, 
the descendants of those exiled Greeks to 
whom Gaul had generously given the 
ground on which their city was built, 
undertook to set themselves up as sovereign 
lords over the provinces which opposed 
her claims. Marseilles, threatened, sum- 
moned the Romans to her aid. They came, 
not to support Marseilles in her iniquity, 
but to tako possession themselves of the 
country, in spite of the prodigies of valor 
displayed by its inhabitants. Behold the 
Ptomans settled, therefore, in Provence, 
where they built the town of Aix, and thus 
founded their first colony in our country !” 

“ Accursed be the men of Marseilles 
cried Joel. “It was owing to the sons of 
the Greeks that the Romans set foot among 
us.’^ 

“And by what right do you curse the 
men of Marseilles ? Should you not equally 
cui’se those provinces who, after the decline 
of the Republic, sufiered one of their sisters 
to bo thus crushed and subjugated by 
strangers ? But prompt is the punishment 
of evil ! The Romans, encouraged by the 
indifference of Gaul, seized on Auvergne, 
then on Dauphiny, then on Languedoc and 
Vivarais, despite the heroic resistance of 
the people of these provinces, divided 
among themselves and left to their own 
strength. Behold the Romans masters, 
therefore, of almost all tho'south of Gaul, 
which they governed by their procon- 
suls ; reducing the people to slavery ! 
Were the other provinces at length 
alarmed by these terrible Roman inva- 
sions, Avhich steadily advanced and threat- 
ened the heart of'Gaul ? No, no ; confiding 
in their courage, they said, like you just 
now, Joel, ‘ the South is a long way from 
the North ; the East is a long way from the 
West.^ Nevertheless, our race, too careless 
and presumptuous to ward off foreign do- 
minion while there yet is time, always has 
the tardy courage to rebel when the yoke 
weighs heavily upon it. Terrible insurrec- 
tions broke out in the provinces subjected by 
the Romans ; they were suppressed with 
bloodshed. Our misfortunes followed thick 
and fast. The Burgundians, stirred up by 
the descendants of the ancient kings, took 
up arms against the people of Franche- 
Comte, and invoked the aid of the Romans. 
Franche-Comte, unable to resist such an al- 
liance, solicited reinforcements of the Ger- 
mans on the other side of the Rhine, and 
thus taught these Northern barbarians the 
way to Gaul ; but those new allies showed 
themselves so ferocious that, after bloody 
battles with the very tribes that had en- 
treated their aid, they remained masters of 
Burgundy and Franche-Comte. Finally, 
last year, the Swiss, incited by the example 
of the Germans, made an irruption into the 
Gallic provinces conquered by the Romans. 


Julius Caesar, who had been appointed pro- 
consul, hastened from Italy, drove back the 
Swiss to their mountains, and, expelling the 
Germans from Burgundy and Franche- 
Comt(?, took possession of these provinces, 
exhausted by their long struggle with the 
barbarians, and for their oppression substi- 
tuted that of the Romans — it was to us but 
a change of masters. At last, in the begin- 
ning of this year, a part of Gaul awakened 
from its stupor, feeling the danger that 
threatened the provinces which were still 
independent. Some brave patriots, desiring 
neither Romans nor Germans for masters — 
Galba among the Gauls of Belgica, and 
Boddignat among the Gauls of Flanders — 
aroused the people in a body against 
Caesar. The Gauls of Vermandois and 
those of Artois also rose in insurrection. 
They marched on the Romans. Ah ! a 
great and terrible battle was the battle of 
the Sambre V’ cried the stranger with en- 
thusiasm. “ The whole Gallic army was 
drawn up awaiting Caesar on the left bank 
of the river. Three times the Romans 
crossed it, three times they were beaten 
back, fighting up to their waists in water 
stained with blood. The Roman cavalry 
was broken and the veteran legions over- 
powered. Caesar alighted from his horse, 
rallied the last cohorts of his veterans 
who had given way, and, sword in, hand, 
charged our army at their head. In spite 
of his courage, the battle was lost to him, 
when suddenly we saw a fresh body of 
troops advancing to his aid.’' 

“You say, ‘w'O saw,”’ said Joel; “you 
were present, then, at this terrible battle ?” 

The stranger continued, without reply- 
ing : “ Exhausted and decimated by seven 
hours’ fighting, we still struggled v^ith 
these fresh troops; we struggled till the 
last ; we struggled till death. For, do you 
know',” added the stranger, with anguish, 
“ do you kn6w — ^you W'ho remained quietly 
hero, W'hile your brethren W' ere dying for 
the liberty of Gaul, which is also yours — 
do you know how many of the sixty thou- 
sand combatants of the Gallic army sur- 
vived this battle of the Sambre? Fim 
hundred /” * 

“Five hundred!” cried Joel, with a doubt- 
ing air. 

“ I say it, because I am one of the surviv- 
ors,” proudly replied the traveler. 

“ Then those freshly -healed wounds on 
your face — ” 

“ Were received in the battle of the 
Sambre.” 

At this moment, the watch-dogs outside 
the house were heard barking furiously, 
while some one knocked loudly at the outer 
gate of the palisade. The family of the 


♦In the battle of the Sambre, out of sixty thousand 
men, five hundred alone survived. 


70 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


brenn, still under the mournful impression 
of the traveler’s words, thought themselves 
on the point of being attacked ; the women 
rose and the little children threw them- 
selves into their arms, while the men seized 
the weapons suspended on the w'all. The 
dogs, meanwhile, having ceased to bark, 
although the knocking was still kept up 
loudly, Joel said to his family, “ The dogs 
know who it is that is knocking, for they 
have left off barking.” 

Saying these words, the brenn left the 
house. Several of his kinsmen and the 
stranger followed him, by way of precau- 
tion. The gate of the court was open, and 
two voices were heard shouting from tbe 
other side of the palisade, ‘‘It is we, friends, 
it is we ! Albiuik and Mikael.” 

By the light of the moon, indeed, the 
brenn’s two sons were seen, with their 
horses, breathless and covered with foam, 
behind them. After tenderly embracing 
his sons, especially the sailor, who had 
been absent at sea for nearly a year, Joel 
entered the house with them, where they 
were welcomed with delight and surprise 
by their mother and all their family. 

Albinik the sailor, and Mikael the ar- 
morer, were extremely tall and robust; 
they wore over their clothing a hooded 
cloak of coarse woolen cloth, which was 
dripping with rain. On entering the house, 
even before embracing their mother, the 
two new comers touched their lips to the 
seven twigs of mistletoe, in the copper cup 
on the large stone. There they spied a 
lifeless body, half covered with foliage, by 
the side of which Julyan was still seated. 

“Good evening, Julyan,” said Mikael. 
“ Who is dead here ?” 

“Itis Armel. I killed him this evening in 
a sword-light,” ansAvered Julyan. “ But, as 
we had promised to bo salduue?, I am go- 
ing to-morrow to rejoin him in another 
world. If you wish, I will speak of you to 
him.” 

“ Yes, yes, Julyan, for I loved Armel, 
and thought to liud him alive. I have, in 
my saddle-bag, a little harpoon iron, which 
I forged expressly for him ; I will place it 
on your funeral-pile to-morrow.” 

“ And tell Armel,” added the sailor with 
a smile, “ that ho departed too soon, for his 
fiiend, Albinik, and his wife, Meroe, would 
have told him about their last sea-voyage.” 

“ It Avill be Armel's and my turn in fu- 
ture to tell you beautiful stories, Albinik,” 
replied Julyan, trustfully smiling, “for 
your sea-voyages will be nothing compared 
with those which aAvait us in those mar- 
velous Avorlds which none have seen and 
which all will see.” 

When Margarid’s two sons had replied 
to the tender greetings of their mother and 
family, the brenn said to the traveler : 

“ Friend, these are my two children.” 


“ May it i)lea8e the gods that the haste of 
their arrival here is caused by no misfor- 
tune !” replied the stranger. 

“ I repeat the wish of our guest, my 
sons,” said Joel. “ What has happened 
that you arrive so late and in such haste? 
Welcome is your return, Albinik, but I did 
not think you near; where is your hand- 
some wife, Meroe ?” 

“ I left her at Vannes, father. I will tell 
you what has happened : I was returning 
from Spain, by the bay of Biscay, on my 
wniy to England, when to-day’s bad w'eather 
forced me to enter the river of Vannes. But, 
by Teutates, who presides over all journeys, 
by land or by sea, in this and in other 
Avorlds, I did not expect to witness what I 
saw in the town. Leaving my ship, there- 
fore, in the port, under the guard of the 
sailors, with my wife to watch them, I took 
a horse and galloped to Auray, when I told 
Mikael the news, and we both hastened 
thither to warn you.” 

“ And Avhat did you see at Vannes ?” 

“ What did I see ? All the inhabitants 
roused to anger and indignation, like brave 
Bretons as they are !” ^ 

“ And what was the cause of this anger, 
my child ?” asked Margarid, plying her 
distaff. 

“Four Roman officers, with no other es- 
cort than a few solders, and as coolly inso- 
lent as if they liad been in a land of slaves, 
came to Vannes yesterday, and commanded 
the magistrates of the town to dispatch or- 
ders to all the neighboring tribes to send 
ten thousand sacks of wheat to Vannes.” 

“ Anything else, my son ?” asked Joel, 
laughing and shrugging his shoulders. 

“ Five thousand sacks of oats.” 

“ And what else ?” 

“ Five hundred casks of hydrorael.” 

“They would naturally want to drink,” 
said the brenn, laughing louder than ever. 
“ What else ?” 

“ A thousand oxen.” 

“ The fattest, of course. Anything 
more?” 

“ Five thousand sheep.” 

“That is natural ; they would tire of eat- 
ing beef all the time. Is that all, mv chil- 
dren ?” 

“ They also demanded three hundred 
horses to mount the Roman cavalry, and 
two hundred wagons of forage.” 

“Why not? The poor horses must be 
fed,” returned Joel, continuing his jesting 
tone. “ But this cannotbe all ; when a man 
begins to order, why should ho stop ?” 

“ These provisions are then to be carried 
by the people to Poitou and Touraine.” 

“ Pray, what dragon’s jaws are to swal- 
low theso sacks of wheat, sheep, oxen, and 
casks of hydromel ?” 

“ And, above all,” added the stranger, 
“ who is to pay for these provisions ?” 


THE GOLDEN SICKLE. 


71 


“ Pay for them returned Albenik. “ No 
ono ; it is a forced levy.’’ 

“ Ah ! ah !” said J oel. 

“ And tho dragon that is to swallow up 
thes3 provisions is tho Roman army that is 
wintering in Touraine and Auvergne.” 

A shudder of anger, mingled Avith iron- 
ical disdain, ran through the whole family 
of tho brenn. 

“ Well, Joel,” resumed the traveler, “ do 
you still think it a long way from Tour- 
aine to Brittany ? The distance does not 
appear very great to me, since Cmsar’s 
oliicers come quietly and Avithout an escort 
to provision their army — their purse empty 
and their cudgel raised.” 

Joel no longer laughed; he hung his 
head and remained mute. 

“ Our guest speaks the truth,” said Al- 
benik. “Yes, these Romans came, their 
purse empty and their cudgel raised; for 
ono of their officers lifted his vine-stock 
against the aged Ronan, the oldest of tho 
magistrates of Vannes, who laughed aloud, 
like you, father, at their demands.” 

“ Yet, my children, what else can we do 
than to laugh at these demands? To levy 
these supplies on us tribes in tho neighbor- 
hood of V anncs ; to foree us to carry these 
requisitions to Touraine and Anjou, with 
our oxen and horses, Avhich the Romans 
would then retain, and this at tho moment 
of sowing our late crops and doing our 
fall Avork ; to ruin tho coming harvest, 
while robbing us of that of tho last year, is 
to reduce us to the necessity of browsing 
on tho grass which was to have fed the 
beasts that they had stolen.” 

“ Yes,” said Mikael the armorer, “ they 
Avish to take our Avheat and cattle and to 
leave us naught but grass; hut, by the 
lance which I forged this morning! tho 
Romans themselves shall bite the dust of 
our fields beneath our blows.” 

“ Vannes h.as this day begun its prepara- 
tions for defense in case of attack,” resumed 
the sailor. “ Entrenchments have been 
commenced in the suburbs of the port. 
All our sailors are arming, and should the 
Roman galleys attack us by sea, never 
Avould tho vultures find such a feast of 
corpses on the shore.” 

“ On our Avay through tho other tribes,” 
said Mikael, “avo have this night spread 
tho noAvs and given tho alarm. The magis- 
trates of Vannes have also sent out in all 
directions to order Avatch-fires to be lighted 
on tho hills, to giA'e notice that, from this 
night, a great danger threatens Brittany 
from one cud to tho other.” 

Mamin’ Margarid, still plying her distaff, 
had listened to tho words of her son. She 
said calmly : 

“ And what Avas done Avith the Roman offi- 
cers, my ch ildren? W ere they not sent hack to 
their army, after being severely scourged ?” 


“No, mother, they were all thrown into 
prison at Vannes, save tAvo of their soldiers, 
Avhom tho magistrates dispatched to the 
Roman general, to tell him that no pi’O- 
visions Avould bo furnished him, and that 
his officers would be kept as hostages.” 

“It would have been better to have 
scourged the officers and driven them in 
disgrace from the city,” returned Mamm’ 
Margarid. “It is thus that robbers are 
treated, and these Romans wished to rob 
us.” 

“ You are right, Mamm’ Margarid,” said 
Joel ; “ they came to rob us, to starve us, 
to carry off our harvests and our flocks !” 
added Joel, with great indignation. “By 
the vengeance of Ilesus ! to take from us 
our beautiful team of six young oxen, and 
our four pairs of black bulls, each of them 
Avith such a pretty Avhito star in the fore- 
head !” 

“ And our beautiful white heifers, with 
tawny heads,” said Mamm’ Margarid, 
shrugging her shoulders, and continuing to 
ply her distaff ; “ and our sheep Avith thick 
fleeces ! Rods, my sons ! rods for these 
Romans !” 

“ And your fiery horses, bred from your 
^roud stallion, Tom Bras,” said the strang- 
er, “ after carrying your harvests and fod- 
der to Touraine, Avill then serve to mount 
tho Roman army. It is true that the 
fatigue will not be very great ; for, perhaps, 
you Avill confess now that it is not far from 
Toraino to Brittany ?” 

“ You aro free to jest, friend,” returned 
Joel; “ you were right and I was wrong. 
Yes, yes ; you spoke the truth. If all the 
Gallic provinces had confederated together 
at the first attack of tho Romans — if they 
had made but half the efforts united which 
they undertook alone — Ave should not now 
be exposed to the insolent demands and 
threats of these Pagans. You are free to 
jest.” 

“ No, Joel, I will no longer jest,” replied 
the stranger, gravely. “Tho danger is 
close at hand ; the camp of the enemy is 
twelve days’ march distant ; and tho refusal 
of tho Vannes magistrates, and imprison- 
ment of tho Roman soldiers, is war Avithin 
a few days — relentless war — such as is 
Avaged by the Romans. Conquered — death 
on the battle-field, or slavery afar off, aAvaits 
us ; for the slave-dealers folloAV tho Roman 
camps, eager for the quarry. All that sur- 
vive, sound or wounded, men, women, young 
girls, and children, are sold at auction like 
cattle for tho benefit of the conquerors, and 
sent by thousands to Italy or to Roman 
Gaul in tho South, since there is now a 
Roman Gaul I Then, tho strong men are 
often forced to fight with wild beasts in the 
circus for the diversion of their masters; 
Avhile tho women, young girls, and childreu 
even — yes, children; ask Cassar — are victims 


'72 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


of tlie most horrible debauchery. Such is 
the meaning of war with the Romans, if 
you are conquered!’’ exclaimed the stranger. 
“■Will you suffer yourselves to be conquer- 
ed? Will you submit to this shame? 
Will you surrender to them your wives, 
sisters, daughters, and children, Gauls of 
Brittany ?” 

Scarcely had the traveler uttered these 
words, when the family of Joel — men, wo- 
men, young girls, and children, all, to the 
dwarf Rabouzigued — started up, with spark- 
ling e3’e3 and flashed checks, and exclaimed 
tumultuously, waving their arms, “ War, 
war, Avar !” Joel’s great Avar-dog, Deber 
Trad, roused by these cries, stood on , his 
hind-feet, resting his fore-paws on the 
shoulder of his master, Avho, stroking his 
enormous head, said, “ Yes, old Deber Trud, 
thou shalt hunt the Romans Avith our tribe; 
the quarry shall be thine — thy jaws shall be 
red with gore. At them, Deber Trud ! at 
the Romans ! at the Romans !” The dog 
replied to these battle-cries by grOAvling 
fiercely, and shoAving tusks as formidable 
as those of the lion. The Avatch-dogs out- 
side, as Avell as those in the stables, set up 
a howl in ansAver to Deber Trud, and the 
noise of the pack became frightful. 

“A good omen, friend Joel,” said the 
traveler ; “ your dogs howl for the enemy’s 
death.” 

Yes, yes-, death to the enemy!” cried 
the brenn. “ The gods be thanked ! in 
Breton Gaul, in the day of peril, the Avatch- 
dog becomes the war-dog, the farm-horse 
the charger, the toiling ox the bearer of 
munitions, the harvest-Avagon the chariot 
of Avar, the husbandman the warrior, and 
even our peaceful and fertile land, becoming 
a land of Avar, SAvalloAvs up the stranger. 
At each step he finds a tomb in our bottom- 
less marshes, our quicksands, and the clefts 
of our rocks, and his A'essels are engulfed 
in the Avhirlpools of our bays, more terrible 
in their calm than the tempest in its fury.” 

“Joel,” said Jul_yan, Avho had moved 
awa^’- from his friend’s body, “ I promised 
Armel to go to rejoin him in another world. 
This death will be a pleasure to roe; to die 
fighting the Romans is a duty. What shall 
I do ?” 

“ Ask one of the Druids of Karnak to- 
morrow, J uh'an, and ho will advise you.” 

“ And Avhat of our sister Ilena ?” said 
Albeiiik to his mother. “ It is almost a 
year since I saw her, but I am certain that 
she is still the pearl of the Isle of Sena. 
My Avife Meroci gave me many loving mes- 
sages for her.” 

“ Those who speak your sister’s name 
seem to utter that of a divinity,” answered 
Mamm’ Margarid. “ You will see her to- 
morrow.” 

Joel’s wife rose and laid down her distaff, 
the signal for the family to seek repose. 


Mamm’ Margarid then said : “ Let us retire, 
my children ; the night is far advanced. 
To-morrow, by daybreak, we must occupy 
ourselves in preparing the supplies for Avar, 
to carry with us, and to leave concealed 
here.” Then, addressing the traveler, she 
said, “ May the gods give you healthful 
repose and sweet slumbers, friend guest.” 
She added, sighing, “ I had thought to cele- 
brate my daughter Hena’s birthday to-mor- 
row more joyously.” 


CHAPTER V. 

Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, in fulfl’.lment of 
his promise, conducts his guest to the Isle of Sena.— 
Julyan consults the Druids of Karnak as to whether 
he shall rejoin Armel or fight the Komans. — Transmis- 
sion of orders forty or fifty leagues, among the Gauls, 
in the space of half a day. — Visit of Hena, the Virgin 
of the Isle of Sena, to her father’s house. — News 
brought by her of three human sacrifices, to be wit- 
nessed by all the neighboring tribes, and to take place 
that evening at the Stones of Karnak, on the rising 
of the moon, — Human sacrifices. — Call to arms against 
the Romans, 

The next morning, at sunrise, Joel, ac- 
cording to his promise, launched his bark, 
and, accompanied by his son, Albenik the 
sailor, conducted the stranger to tho Isle of 
Kellor, not daring to land on tho island of 
Sena. The guest of the brenn having 
spoken in a low tone to the ewagh Avho 
was always watching on the island, tho lat- 
ter appeared struck with respect, and said 
that Taliessen, the Arch Druid, who Avas 
then at tho Isle of Sena Avith his wife 
Auria, had expected the traveler the even- 
ing before. 

Before leaving Joel, the stranger said to 
him, “ Let neither yourself nor your fam- 
ily forget your resolutions of last evening. 
To-day, a call to arms will be re-echoed 
from one end of Breton Gaul to the other.” 

“ Be certain that I, my kinsmen, and my 
tribe, Avill be tho first to answer this call.” 

“ I believe you. The question at stake is 
whether Gaul shall be enslaved, or restored 
to its former strength and glory.” 

“ At the moment of quitting each other, 
can I not know the name of tho brave man 
who has been seated at my fireside — the 
name of the sage who speaks so wisely, 
and who loves his country so well ?” 

“Joel, I call myself a soldier while Gaul 
remains enslaved; if ever we meet again, 
I shall call myself your friend, for such I 
am.” 

"VYith these words, tho stranger stepped 
into the boat which was to convey him from 
tho Isle of Kellor to the Isle of Sena. Be- 
fore the bark shoved off under the direction 
of tho ewagh, Joel asked the latter Avhether 
he should A\'ait for his daughter Ilena, who 
Avas to come home on that day. The OAvagh 
informed him that she would not come till 


THE GOLDEN SICKLE. 


73 


nightfall. The brenn, vexed at not carrying 
back Ilcna with him, returned in his boat 
alone with Albinik. 

Toward midday, Julyan went to ask the 
Druids of tho forest of Karnak, whether lie 
ought to prefer seeking death in battle with 
the HomanJ!, to a speedy and voluntary 
death, which would bo a pleasure to him, 
since iio was going to rejoin Arme!. Ttio 
Druids answered that, having pledged his 
faith as a salduno to Armcl to die with 
him, he ought to bo faithful to his promise, 
and that the cwaghs would go for ArraePs 
bod}’-, in order to carry it with the usual 
ceremonies to tho funeral-pile, where Ju- 
lyan must be when the moon rose. Julyan, 
rejoiced at being able to see his friend so 
soon, was preparing to leave Karnak, when 
he saw tho stranger who had been the 
guest of Joel arrive from tho Isle of Sena, 
in company Avith Taliessin. The latter 
spoke a few words to tho other Druids, who 
surrounded the traveler with as much eager- 
ness as respect; tho youngest among them 
welcoming him as a brother, and the oldest 
as a sou. Tho stranger, recognizing Ju- 
lyan, said : 

“ You are returning to tho brenn of your 
tribe ; wait a little, and I will give you a 
writing for him.” 

Julyan obeyed the wish of tho stranger, 
who withdrew, accompanied by Taliessin 
and tho other Druids. In a little Avhilo he 
returned, and gave a roll of tanned skin to 
tho young man, saying, “ This is for Joel. 
To-night, Julyan, when tho moon rises, wo 
shall meet again, llesus loves those who, 
like you, are bravo and faithful in friend- 
ship.” 

Julyan, on returning to the house of the 
brenn, learned that ho hod gone to tho 
fields, to bring back the grain that was 
stored in tho mill ; he Avent in search of 
him, and g.avo him the strangers Avriting. 
This Avriting contained these Avords : 

“ Friend Joel, in tho name of Gaul, in 
danger, this is Avhat the Druids of Karnak 
expect of tliee. Command all of thy family 
who arc at Avork in tho fields to shout to 
those of their ti-ibo who ai-e working near 
them, ‘ The Ncav Year Mistletoe !* Let 
men, women, and children all repair to 
Karnak forest, this evening, at the rising 
of the moon. Let those of the tribe Avho 
have heard these words shout them in turn 
to those of tho other tribes Avho are also at 
AVork in tho fields.’ So that this cry, thus 
repeated, from neighbor to neighbor, from 
village to village, from city to city, from 
Vannes to Auray, may warn all tho tribes 
to repair this evening to Kai’nak forest.” 

Joel did as ho had been bidden by the 
stranger, in tho namo of tho Druids of 

* This Druidical rallying cry, “T)ie New Yesr Afistle- 
toe ! ’ is still shouted through the streets on New Year’s 
Day by the poor children in some of the provinces. 


Karnak. The summons was repeated from 
neighbor to neighbor, and all tho tribes, 
from tho nearest to tho most remote, wore 
warned to repair, that evening, at tho rising 
of the moon, to the forest of Karnak.* 
While some of tho men of the brenn’s 
farnily hastily brought, back tho wheat 
which had been left at tho mill, for the 
purpose of burying a portion of it in the 
cavities which tho rest of the husbandmen 
dug in dry places, tho women, young girls, 
and even tho children, under the superin- 
tendence of Margarid, hastily packed up 
baskets of salt meats, sacks of wheat, and 
skins of hydromel and wine, filled chests 
AvitJi clothing, linen, and balsam for wounds, 
and cut and fitted strong canvas coverings 
for tho Avagons; for, in formidable Avars, all 
tho tribes of tho country threatened by the 
enemy often went to meet him, instead of 
awaiting his coming; tho houses were 
abandoned, tho oxen employed in tho fields 
Avero harnessed to tho chariots of battle, 
containing tho Avomen, children, clothing, 
and provisions ; tho middle-aged men, 
mounted on horseback, composed tho cav- 
alry, and the young men, as being more 
active, formed an armed escort on foot. 
Tho grain Avas buried, and the deserted 
flocks strayed over tho pastures without a 
keeper, and returned instinctively at even- 
ing to the abandoned stables ; though part 
of them Avero almost always devoured by 
tho Avolves and bears. The fields Avere left 
uncultivated, and great dearths ensued. It 
Avas often tho case, hoAvever, that tho com- 
batants who went in this way to tho defense 
of their country, encouraged by their wives 
and children, Avho had naught to expect 
from the enemy but slavery, shame, and 
death, repulsed the invaders from their 
frontiers, and returned to repair the disas- 
ters to tbeir fields. 

Toward tho close of the day, Joel, know- 
ing that his daughter was to visit home, 
returned thither Avith his kinsmen, to aid in 
tho preparations for tho warlike journey. 
Ilena, tho virgin of tho Isle of Sena, came 
at nightfall, as she had promised. 

When tho father, mother, and all the 
family saw Ilena enter, it seemed to them 
that never — no, never had she been more 
beautiful, and her father (who writes this) 
had never felt so proud of his child. The 
long black tunic that sheAA'ore was confined 
at the Avaist by a brass belt, from which 
hung on one side a little golden sickle, and 
on the other a crescent, representing the 

* With respect to this singular method of oral tele- 
prapLing, if we may use the expresoton, C8e>iar says, 
“ThoGa'lic peasants, at work in the fields, coinrauni- 
c.ited important news by shouting it to each other ; it 
thus went from burgh to burgh, and from city to city, as 
fast as sound could travel. Au event occurri g at 
Genabum (Orlean-) at sunrise, in the shortest days of 
the year, was known among the Averni (the Gams of " 
Auvergne), a liundred and sixty miles distant, before 
the end of the night.” 


74 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


moon in its wane. Hena had wished to 
adorn herself to do honor to her birth- 
day. A gold necklace and bracelets of fila- 
gree work, set with garnets, adorned her 
arms and neck, which were whiter than 
snow ; on taking off her hooded cloak, she 
displayed a wreath of green oak-leaves, like 
those worn in religious ceremonies, on her 
fair hair, which was braided around her 
pure, smooth brow. The azure depths of 
the sea, in the calm of a serene sky, were not 
purer than the blue eyes of Hena. 

The brenn extended his arms to his 
daughter. She rushed into them joyfully, 
and offered her forehead to him to kiss, as 
well as to her mother, Margarid. The 
children of the family, who worshiped 
Hena, crowded round her and disputed with 
each other the honor of kissing her beauti- 
ful hands ; and even old Deber Trud frisked 
about as well as ho could to welcome the 
coming of his new mistress. 

Hena offered her forehead to Albinik 
the sailor to kiss, next after- her father 
and mother; she had not seen her brother 
for a long time. Guilhern and Mikael next 
had their turn, as well as the swarm of 
children, whom she encircled altogether in 
her arms, stooping to a level with them to 
kiss them. She then gave a tender sis- 
terly greeting to Ilenory, the wife of Guil, 
hern, regretting that Meroe, Albinik’s wife 
was not there. Her other relatives were 
not forgotten — all, even to Rabouzigued, the 
butt of everybody, had a friendly word from 
her. Then, delighted to find herself amidst 
her family, in the house Avhere she had 
been born eighteen years before, Hena seat- 
ed herself at her mother’s feet, on the crick- 
et on which she had always sat as a child. 
On seeing her daughter thus at her feet, 
Mamm’ IHargarid pointed to the disorder 
which prevailed in the room, on account of 
the preparations for war, and said, sorrow- 
fully : 

“We expected to pass this day, the anni- 
versary of ymur birth, in peace and rejoic- 
ing, my dear daughter; and behold! you 
find confusion and alarm in this house, soon 
to bo deserted, for we are threatened by war.” 

“My mother speaks truly,” repliedllena, 
sighing. “ The wrath of Ilesusis great.” 

“ Tell us, thou who art a saint — a saint 
of the Isle of Sena — tell us, dear child,” 
said Joel, “ what we must do to appease 
the anger of the all-powerful god 1” 

“ My father and mother do mo too much 
honor in calling mo a saint,” replied tho 
young maiden. “Like tho Druids, I and 
my companions meditate at night under tho 
shade of the sacred oaks at tho rising of the 
moon. We seek tho simplest and most di- 
vine precepts in order to spread the knowl- 
edge of them among our fellows * we adore 

* liiogenes Laertes quotes these beautiful maxims, 
borrowed from the Druidical philosophy: “Obey the 


the all-powerful god in his works, from the 
lofty oak, which is consecrated to him, to 
the humblest mosses on the black 
rocks of our isle; from the stars, whose 
eternal march we study,* to tlie insect 
which lives and dies in a day ; from tho 
boundless sea to tho tiny brooklet that 
trickles among the grass. We seek tho 
cure of tho maladies that cause men to suf- 
fer, and wo glorify our fathers and mothers 
who have rendered Gaul illustrious. By 
the science of auguries and tho study of tho 
past, wo strive to foresee the future in order 
to enlighten those less clear-sighted than 
ourselves. Like the Druids, lastly, we in- 
struct the youth and inspire them with an 
ardent love for our beloved and common 
country, to-day so terribly menaced by the 
anger of llesus, because the Gauls have too 
long forgotten that they are all sons of the 
same God, and that a brother should feel 
tho wounds of a brother.” 

“ The stranger Avho was our guest, and 
whom I conducted this morning to the Isle 
of Sena, said tho same, my dear daughter.” 

“ My mother and father may hold sacred 
tho words of the Chief of tho Hundred 
Valleys. Hesus and tho love of Gaul in- 
spire him.” 

“ He tho chief of a hundred valleys ! 
Ho must be very powerful, then,” said Joel. 
“ lie refused to tell mo his name. Do' you 
know him, my dear daughter? Of what 
province is ho ?” 

“He was impatiently expected last even- 
ing at the Isle of Sena by tho venerable 
Taliessin. As to tho name'of this traveler, 
all that I am at liberty to tell my father 
and mother is, that on tho day that our 
country is subjugated, the Chief of tho 
Hundred Vallej-s will have shed the last 
drop of his generous blood. May tho 
wrath of llesus spare us this terrible 
day !” 

“Alas! my daughter, if llesus is in- 
censed, by what means shall wo appease 
him ?” 

“ By following his law, which says, ‘ All 
men are sons of tho same God;’ and also by 
offering human sacrifices to him. May 
those of this night appease his anger !” 

“ This night’s sacrifices ! Whom ?” asked 
the brenn. 

“Do not my father and mother knoAV 
that to-night, at the rising of the moon, 
three human sacrifices will bo offered at 
tho Stones of Karnak ?” 

“ Wo know,” returned Joel, “ that all the 
tribes are summoned to repair this evening 
to Karnak forest ; but w'ho are these sacri- 
fices that w'ill bo acceptable to llesus, 
beloved daughter ?” 

laws of God. Do good to men. Endure the accidents of 
life with courage.” 

* The science of astronomy was a special study amonc 

the Druids. ** 


THE GOLDEX SICKLE. 75 


“ First, that of Daoulas, the murderer, 
■who killed tho defenseless Iloiiarno in his 
sleep. The Druids have sentenced him to die 
this evening.* The blood of a cowardly mur- 
derer is an acceptable expiation to Hesus.” 

“ And the second sacrifice V’ 

“Our kinsman, Julyan, desires, through 
sworn friendship, to rejoin Armel, whom 
ho slew in honorable combat through ex- 
cess of valor. To-night, glorified by. the 
song of tho bards, ho will go, according to 
bis vow, to meet Armel in tho unknown 
worlds. Tho blood that a bravo man offers 
voluntarily to Ilesus is pleasing to him.” 

“ And tho third sacrifice, my beloved 
child,” said Mamm’ Margarid ; “ who is 
the third sacrifice ?” 

Ilena did not reply. She laid her fair 
young head on Margarid’s lap, and, after 
musing for a few moments, kissed her 
mother^s hands, and said to her, with a 
gentle smile, “IIow many times little Ilena 
has slept thus on your lap, my mother, at 
evening, while you plied your distaff, and 
all you who are hero, with Armel, who is 
awa}', were gathered around the hearth, 
talking of the heroic virtues of our fathers 
and mothers in days gono by !” 

“ It is true, my darling daughter,” replied 
Margarid, passing her hand caressingly 
over her child’s fair hair, “it is true; and 
all here loved you so much for your good 
heart and childish grace, that, on seeing 

* The human sacrifices, for which such reproach has 
been case on the Druids, were composed of those sen- 
tenced to death by the law, and those who offernd them- 
selves up voluntarily. As to the latter, Christians c m- 
not dispute their grandeur, for the crucified Christ, 
offering his blood 10 Cod the Father for the redemption 
of the world, is the highest type of voluntary sacrifice. 
“ Trial for murder,” says Strabo, “is under the special 
jurisdiction of the Druids.” Diodorus Siculus adds : 
“After keeping the criminals in prison, tho Dm ds 
hang them on gibbets, in honor of the gods, or place 
them on funeral-piles with other offerings.” Csesar 
says: “The Druids are persuaded that t. e most uc- 
ceptab'.e sacrifices to the gods arc criminals taken in 
robbery, murder, or other crimes.” Lastly, we will 
quote the eloquent words of Reyniud : “ In short, the 
principal difference between capital punishment among 
the Druids iiqd our own is, that the former was the sen 
tence of religious as well as of civil law. Without ap- 
proving of this custom of our forefathers, since is a 
sort of cowardice to rid ourselves of criminals instead 
of reforming them, I do not hosiiafe to say, that, of the 
two spec ados, that of the Druid himself restoring the 
condemne l criminal t.i Cod, as an off‘ ring of expiation, 
in the midst of a praying assembly, is less abominabio 
than that of the executioner of our days, a mercenary 
without compassion or piety, brutally seizing the crim- 
inal to slaughter him on the stage, in the gui-e of a 
police demonstration.” Besides tho voluntary and the 
expiatory sacrifices, the Druids, like tho Hebrews, several 
centuries before Ciirist, some imes devoted the enemies 
of their nation to their gods, malting burnt offerings of 
them after the victory, on the lit Id of battle. Tlie 
formula of flie anathema was almost precisely similar 
to that employed by the Hebrews. On readii g of the 
scenes cf extermination in Canaan, wo can almost be- 
lieve ourselves among the Gauls of remote ages. Tlie 
sacrifice embraced cveryihing — men and animals — an 
the burning of tho booty acoompaided the b'ood-offering 
as in.ente. Compare the taking of Amaick orof Jer- 
icho with a Gallic holocaust, “llicy utterly destroyed,” 
says Joshua, “all that was in the city, both man and 
woman, young and old, ox and sheep and ass, with 
the edge of the sword. And they burnt the city with 
fire.” 


you asleep on my lap, they talked in a low 
tone, for fear of awakening you.” 

Rabouzigued, who was there among the 
other meinbors of tho family, broke forth : 
“ But who is this tliird hum.an sacrifice, 
that is to appease Ilesus and deliver us 
from war ? _ Who is it, Ilena, that is to he 
sacrificed this evening ?” 

“I will tell you, Ilabouzigued, when I 
have reflected a little longer on days gone 
by,” replied the young girl, in a dreamy 
manner, without quitting her mother’s lap; 
then, passing her hand across her brow, as 
if to collect her thoughts, she looked 
around, pointed to tho stone upon which 
was tho copper basin with tho seven twigs 
of mistletoe, and resumed : 

“ And when I was twelve years old, do 
my father and mother remember bow 
happy I was at being chosen by tho Druid- 
esses of tho Isle of Sena to receive, in a 
linen vail, bleached in tho night-dews, the 
mistletoe cut at the full moon with a 
golden knife by tho Druids? Do my 
father and mother remember hoAV I was 
brought back by the ewaghs in a chariot 
adorned -with flowers and foliage, with 
mistletoe to sanctify our house, while the 
bards chanted the glory of Ilesus ? What 
tender embraces all* tho family lavished on 
mo upon my return ! What rejoicings were 
there in tho tribe !” 

“Dear, dear daughter,” said Margarid, 
pressing Ileua’s head to her breast; “ if the 
Druidesses chose you to receive tho sacred 
mistletoe in a linen vail, it was because 
your soul was as white as tho vail !” 

“ It was because little Ilena was the 
most learned, the best, and tho gentlest 
among her companions,” added Alhiuik tho 
sailor, looking tenderly at his sister. 

“It was because little Ilena was the 
bravest among her companions, for she 
nearly perished in saving Janed, the 
daughter of Wor, who had fallen into the 
sea while gathering shells on tho rocks of 
Glen lick Bay, and had been already swept 
away by tho waves,” said Mikael the ar- 
morer, looking lovingly at Ilena. 

“ It was because little Ileua was gentle, 
patient, and kind above all others to 
children ; when scarcely twelve years old, 
she taught them already in tho college ot 
tho Druidesses, on the Isle of Sena, like a 
little matron,” said Guilheru tho husband- 
man, in turn. 

Tho daughter of Joel blushed with mod- 
esty on hearing those words of her mother 
and brothers ; when Ilabouzigued said again; 

“But who is tills third human sacrifice 
that is to appease Ilesus and deliver us 
from Avar ? Who is it, Ilena, that is to be 
sacrificed this evening?” 

“ I will tell you, Ilabouzigued,” replied 
tho young girl, rising, “when I have once 
more seen the little chamber Avhero I used 


76 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


to sleep when, grown to a young girl, I 
came from the Isle of Sena to join in our 
family holidays.^’ 

Then, walking to the door of the cham- 
ber, she paused a moment on the threshold, 
and said: 

*■ “ W h at sweet nights I have passed here, 
after retiring for the evening with regret 
from among you ; and with what im- 
patience I rose to behold you again in the 
morning And, entering the little cham- 
ber, while her family marveled more and 
more that so young a girl as Ilena shouhl 
dwell so much on the past, she resumed, 
looking with pleasure at several articles 
arranged on a table : 

“ Here are the shell necklaces which I 
made during the evenings by my mother’s 
side ! Here are the dried varcchs, looking 
like little trees, which I gathered on our 
rocks! Here is the net Avith which I 
amused myself by catching crabs at 
low tide on the sands! Here, also, are 
the rolls of Avhito parchment on which, 
every time I came here, I inscribed my 
happiness at again beholding my friends 
and the house where I was born. I am 
glad that I haA^e amassed all these girlish 
treasures.” 

Rabouzigued, however, who did not seem 
affected by these memories, said again, in 
his shrill, impatient voice : 

“ But who is the third human sacrifice 
that is to appease Ilesus and deliver us 
from Avar ? Who is it, Ilena, that is to be 
sacrificed this evening ?” 

“ I will tell you, Rabouzigued,” replied 
Ilena, smiling, “when I have distributed 
my little, girlish treasures among you all, 
and to you, too, Rabouzigued.” 

With these words, the daughter of the 
brenn made a sign for her family to enter 
the room, and, greatly to thbir surprise, 
gaA"0 to each of them a token of remem- 
brance. All, even to the children who 
loved her so dearly, and also to Rabouzig- 
ued, received something ; for she separated 
the shell necklaces and divided the dried 
varechs, saying to each one in her gentle 
voice, “ Keep this, I pray you, in remem- 
brance of your friend ana relative, Ilena.” 

Joel, his Avife and his three sons, to 
whom Ilena had as yet given nothing, 
looked at each other with the more surprise 
at Avhat she Avas doing, inasmuch as toward 
the end they saw tears in her eyes, though 
she did not appear sad. Sho then unfasten- 
ed the garnet necklace from her throat, and 
offered it to Margarid, saying, as sho kissed 
her hand : 

“ Ilona entreats her mother to keep this 
for her sake.” 

She then took the little rolls of white 
parchment prepared for Avriting, gave them 
to Joel, kissed his hand also, and said : 

“ Hena entreats her father to keep tlleso 


in remembrance of her; he will find her 
most cherished thouglits therein.” 

Then, unfastening from her arms her two 
garnet bracelets, Ilena said to the Avifo of 
her brother Guilhern the husbandman: 

“ Ilena entreats her sister Ilenory to wear 
this bracelet for her sake.” 

She then gave the other bracelet to her 
brother, the sailor, saying : 

“Lot your Avifo Mero"', Avhora I love so 
much for her courage and noble heart, keep 
this bracelet in remembrance of me.” 

Then taking from her brass belt the 
little sickle and the golden crescent Avhich 
were suspended therefrom, Ilena offered the 
first to Guilhern the husbandman, and the 
second to Albinik the sailor, after Avhich 
she took a ring from her finger and gave it 
to Mikael the armorer, saying: 

“ Lot my brothers keep these in memory 
of their sister Ilena.” 

All stood in astonishment, holding in 
their hand Avhat the virgin of the Isle of "Sena 
had just giA’cn them — all stood in astonish- 
ment, unable to utter a word, and looking 
anxiously at each other, as if threatened by 
some unknown danger. 

Ilena then turned to Rabouzigued, and said : 

“ Now, Rabouzigued, I Avill toll you Avho 
will be the third sacrifice this evening.” 

Sho gently took Joel and Margarid by 
the hand, led them back to the large room, 
and said : 

“My father and mother know that the 
blood of a cowardly murderer is an accept- 
able offering of expiation to Ilesus, and one 
likely to appease him.” 

“Yes, you have just told us so, darling 
child.” 

“They also know that the blood of a 
bravo man, who dies for the sake of friend- 
ship, is a heroic offering to Ilesus, and one 
which may appease his wrath.” 

“Yes, 3’ou have j ust now assm-ed us of this.” 
“ My father and mother knoAV, lastly, 
that the offering of all others most accept- 
able to Ilesus and most likely to appease 
him is the innocent blood of a virgin Avho 
is proud and happy to offer her blood to 
Ilesus, freely and voluntarily, in the hope 
that this all-powerful god Avill deliver 
from foreign oppression our beloved coun- 
try, the dear and holy country of our 
fathers. The innocent blood of a virgin 
Avill flow, therefore, this evening, to ap- 
pease the wrath of Ilesus.” 

“And what is her naifie — tell us the 
name of this virgin Avho is to deliver us 
from war ?” said Rabouzigued. 

Ilena, looking at her father and mother 
with tenderness and serenity, replied, “ This 
virgin who is to die is one of the nine 
Druidesses of the Isle of Sena ; her name is 
Ilena; she is the daughter of Margarid and 
Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karuak !” 

A deep and gloomy silence fell upon the 


THE GOLDEN SICKLE. 


77 


family of Jccl. Xo one — no one expected ' 
to see Ilena depart so soon for another i 
spliere ; neither father, nor mother, nor 
brothers, nor kinsmen, -were prepared for 
this sudden journey. 

“What, go already, our Hena ! what, 
leave us so soon!’^ were the exclamations 
that rose on all sides. 

The father and mother looked at each 
other, sighing. INTargarid said to Hena, 
“ Joel and Margarid had expected to await 
the coming of their beloved daughter in 
those imknown worlds where we shall live 
again and meet those whom we had loved 
here below ; but, on the contrary, our Hena 
goes before us.'^ 

“ And perhaps our dear, gentle child will 
not have to wait for us long,^’ said Joel. 

“ May her blood, as innocent and pure as 
that of a lamb, appease the wrath of llesus,’' 
added Margaiid, “ and may wo soon go to 
tell our beloved child that Gaul is freed 
from.it3 invaders.’’ 

“ The memory of our daughter’s heroic 
sacrifice will be perpetuated in our race,” 
said the father. “ As long as the descend- 
ants of Joel, the brenn of the tribe of 
Karnak, exist, they will bo proud of number- 
ing among their ancestors llena, the Virgin 
of the Isle of Sena.” 

The yoimg girl made no reply. She 
gazed at her mother, father and all her rel- 
atives with tender eagerness, as at the 
moment cf setting out cn a journey wo 
gaze longingly for the last time on the 
beloved ones from whom we are to be 
parted. 

Rabouzigued, then pointing through the 
open door to the full moon, which was ris- 
ing like a globe of fire through the distant 
mist of evening, said, “ Hena, Hena, the 
moon is appearing in the horizon.” 

“You are right, Rabouzigued, the time 
has come !” she answered, regretfully 
withdrawing her gaze from that of her 
friends. She added, “Let my father, my 
mother, my family and all my tribe ac- 
company me to the sacred stones of Kar- 
nak forest. This is the hour for the sacri- 
fice.” 

And Hena, walking between Joel and 
Margarid, and followed by her family and 
all her tribe, repaired to Karnak forest. 

The summons to the tribes, spreading 
from mouth to mouth, from village to vil- 
lage, and from city to city, had been heard 
throughout Breton Gaul. The tribes re- 
paired in a body to Karnak forest — men, 
women, and children, as well as Joel and 
bis friends. 

Tho moon, this night at its full, shone re- 
splendent in tho firmament amidst tho stars. 
TJio tribes, after marching long through tho 
thickets and clearings of tho forests, at 
length arrived on tho seashore- There 
rose in nine long avenues the sacred stones 


of Karnak* — those holy stones, the gigan- 
tic pillars of a temple with the heavens for 
its arch. In proportion as the tribes ap- 
proached this place, their thoughtfulness 
redoubled. At the end of the avenues, the 
other stones of the sacrificial altar were 
ranged in a semicircle on the shore, so aS 
to have behind them the deep forest, in front 
of them tho boundless ocean, and above them 
the starry firmament. 

Tho tribes halted at the last avenues of 
Karnak, leaving a wide space between the 
multitude and the altar. A solemn silence 
fell on tho vast crowd. 

Tho funeral-piles were erected in front of 
the sacrificial stones. The middle one, 
which was tho largest, was adorned with 
long white vails, striped with purple, and 
was also decorated with branches of ash, 
fir, oak and birch, arranged in a mystic 
order. The funeral-pile on tho right, which 
was less elevated, was also adorned with 
various kinds of foliage and sheaves of 
wheat. Thereon the body of Armel, killed 
ill honorable combat, was stretched, half 
concealed by apple-tree branches, laden 
with fruit. Tho funeral-pile at tho left was 
surmounted by a wicker-work cage, repre- 
senting a human figure of gigantic stature. 

The sound of cymbals and harps was soon 
heard in tho distance. Tho Druids, Druid- 
esses, and virgins of tho Isle of Sena arriv- 
ed at tho place of sacrifice. First came the 
bards, clad in long white tunics, confined by 
brass belts; their brows were crowned with 
oak-leaves, and they chanted on their harps 
tho praises of God, Gaul, and its heroes. 
Next came tho ewaghs, having charge of 
tho sacrifices; they carried torches and 
axes, and led in chains Daoulas, tho mur- 
derer, destined to punishment. Then fol- 
lowed the Druids, dressed in trailing white 
robes, striped with purple, their foreheads 
crowned with oak-leaves. Among them 


’The forest of Kurnak, now destroyed, extended at that 
time to the seashore ; as to the Druidical siones, which 
lire Ptiil in existence, we quote Ogei’s description in 
the Dictionary of nrittany : “ Carnac is situated on the 
coast, five and a half leagues west-somhnest of Van- 
nes ; its hiphopric is t wenty-five and a half leagues from 
Rennes, ami two and a half leagues from Auray. On 
the coast, south of liorbihan, and close by the hamlet of 
Carnac, are those marvelous stones of which so much 
has been written by antiquarians ; they occupy the 
highest ground frontiag tho sea from this hamlet to 
Trinity Day, a distance of forty-five hundred feet in 
length ; they are set up in quincunxes like avenues of 
trees, and form species of streets laid outby rule. The 
fir.t oftheto streets, beginning on tho Karnak side, is 
forty feet ia width; ihesecond, thirty-six feet; the third, 
forty feet; the fourth, forty-two feet; the fifth and 
sixth, hir(y-six feet each ; the seventh, twenty-two 
feet ; the e ghth, twenty-three feet ; the ninth, twenty- 
six feet ; and the tenth, fourteen feet, ihese stones are 
of diff- rent sizes, and are placed eighteen, twenty and 
tweniy-fivo fei tapart ; some are no larger than ordinary 
inile-sloncs. while others, especially those at tho extrem- 
ity of the avenues, are of prodigious size, being six- 
teen, eighteen, and even fifty feet high, and tf enor- 
mous weight. The most surprising thing is, that they 
are much largi r at the top than at the bottom, so that 
many of them vibrate as if set cn a pivot ; all are un- 
hewn, just as they were taken from the quarry.” 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


rs 

marched Julyan, proud and happy — July- 
Bn, who wished to quit this world to rejoin 
Annel, and to travel with him in un- 
known spheres. Lastly came the married 
Druidesses, clad in white tunics and golden 
belts, and the nine virgins of the Isle of 
;^na, Avith their black tunics, confined by 
l^ass belts, their bare arms, their leafy 
crowns, and their golden harps. Ilcna walk- 
ed in front of her sisters; her eyes and smile 
sought her father, mother and kindred. 
Joel, Margarid, and their fiimily were in the 
foremost row ; their eyes met their daugh- 
ter’s, and their heart went out toward her. 

The Druids ranged themselves around 
the sacrificial stones. The bards ceased 
their songs. One of the ewaghs then an- 
nounced to the assembled crowd that those 
who wished to send remembrances to their 
loved ones who had departed, could place 
their letters and offerings on the funeral- 
piles. Upon this, many relatives and 
friends of those who had long been travel- 
ing elsewhere, piously approached the fu- 
neral-piles and deposited thereon letters, 
flowers, and other mementoes, de.stined to 
live again in another world, as the souls 
whoso bodies were about to dissolve in 
brilliant flames would put on a new cover- 
ing elsewhere.* 

But no one — no one laid anything on the 
funeral-pile of the murderer. Daoulas was 
as dejected and terrified as Julyan was proud 
and smiling. Julyan had everything to 
hope from the continuance of a life that 
had always been pure and just. The mur- 
derer had everything to dread from tho 
continuance of a life polluted by crime. 
"When tho commissions for tho dead had 
been deposited, a deep silence ensued. 

Tho ewaghs, leading Daoulas, loaded with 
chains, dragged him to tho wicker cage 
representing a human figure of gigantic 
stature. Despite tho cries and terror of 
tho condemned, they placed him bound at 
tho foot of tho funeral-pile, and stood by 
him, torch in hand. Taliessin, tho Arch 
Druid, an old man with a long wLite 
beard, then made a sign to one of the bards. 
Tho latter struck his three-stringed harp, 
and sang tho fidlowing words, after point- 
ing out the murderer to tho crowd : 

“ Behold Daoulas, of tho tribe of Mor- 
lech. Ho slew llouarne, of the same tribe. 
Did he slay him like a bravo man, face to 
face, with equal w'eapons? No. Daoulas 
slew him like a coAvard. At midday, as 
Iloliarno Avas sleeping in the fields, under a 
tree, Daoulas came on tip-toe, with his axe 

_ * Tho Gauls, like the Greeks, buraed tho dead, prefer- 
ricj, ^5i;h reason, this volatilization of matter by fire 
to ill se repugnant charnel-hou,es, called ceineierle?, 
which, in t'.o course of time, encroach oa the space des- 
tined for the living. Contrary to tho Greeks, however, 
the G uls, much le-s solicitous about matter or what 
recalled the memory thereof, did not preserve the ashes. 
If th* y paid less heed to the ashes, it was because they 
thought more of the soul. 


in his hand, and slew his victim with one 
blow. Little Erik, of the same tribe, was 
in a tree near by, gathering apples ; he saw 
tho murder and recognized the assassin. 
On the evening of the same day, the ewaghs 
went and seized Daoulas in his tribe. Ho 
was taken before the Druids of Karnak, and 
confronted with little Erik, Avhen he con- 
fessed his crime. 

“ The Arch Druid then spoke : 

“ ‘ In the namo of Hesus, the omnipotent, 
and in the name of Teutates, who presides 
over travelers in this and other wmrlds, 
listen: the expiatory blood of tho mur- 
derer is acceptable to Ilesus. Thou sbalt 
go to live again in other worlds. Thy new 
life Avill be terrible, because thou hast been 
cruel and cowardly. If thou continuest in 
the next life to bo cruel and coAvardly, 
thou Avilt die, to bo born again elsewhere 
still more mihappy; and so on, through all 
eternity. But if, on the contrary, thou be- 
comest brave and good at thy new birth, 
despite the sufferings which thou Avilt en- 
dure, thou Avilt die, to be born again hap- 
pier elscAvhere ; and so on, through all 
eternity.’ ”* 

The hard then addressed the murderer, 
who, loaded with chains, was uttering 
cries of terror. “ Thus spoko the venerated 
Druid : ‘ Daoulas, thou art about to die, 
and meet ihy victim in another Avorld. He 
is UAvaiting you — he is aAvaiting you !’ ” 

At these Avords of tho hard, tho multi- 
tude shuddered Avith horror at tho thought 
that the murderer would find the man Avhom 
he had killed, alive in another Avorld. The 
hard continued, turning toward tho funeral- 
pile, “ Daoulas, thou art about to die. It is 
glorious to see tho faces of the just and 
brave at tho moment Avhen they quit this 
world voluntarily, for holy causes; they 
love, at tho moment of their departure, to 
meet tho tender fai-CAvell gaze of their kin- 
dred and friends; but cowards like thee, 
Daoulas, are unworthy to look for the last 
time on tho assembly of the just and to bo 
seen by them. For this reason, Daoulas, 
thou wilt die, and bo burned, hidden from 
vicAv in this Avicker covering, the semblance 
of a man, as thou hast been naught but the 


* “ The Druids divided all existence into three circles : 
The first, the circle of immensity, or of tho infinite, be- 
longel to God alone ; the tccond, the circle of felicity, 
or Paradise, comprised those be.ngs who had attained 
tj a high order of sanctity ; the third, the circle of 
voyages, embraced the whole order of nature. It was 
in this, at the bottom of chaos, in the great ocean of 
.-pace, Uiat man first drew breath. The power was 
soon given him of choosing between good and evil, 
and he was long subjectod to trials of this kind, quit- 
ting tne by death and being born again to another, 
till he finally attained tho equilibrium between du- 
ties and passions, when ho finally quitted the circle 
of voyages, or ordeals, to take his place in that of fe- 
licity. There was no hell ; the degra ded or wicked soul 
relapsed into an inferior and more cr less unhappy state 
of existence; there were toimen's enough in the vast 
circle of humanity to dispense with a separate place of 
punishment.”— -yean Reynaud, 


THE GOLDEN SICKLE. 


79 


semblance of a man since thy crime.’’’ 
The bard then cried, “ In the name of 
Ilesus, and in the name of Teutates, glory, 
glory to the brave ! Shame, shame to cow- 
ards !’’ iLhd all the bards, striking their 
harps and byinbals, exclaimed in chorus, 
“Glor3-, glory to the brave ! Shame, shame 
to cowai’ds !” 

An cwagh raised the sacred knife, and, 
cutting short the life of the murderer, flung 
his body into the gigantic image. The fu- 
ncral-pile kindled, the harps and cymbals 
sounded, and all the tribes shouted the last 
words of the bard, “ Shame, shame to the 
co’ivavd !'■’ The funeral-pile of the mur- 
derer was soon a mass of flames, in which 
the human form appeared for a moment 
like a fiery giant, and the fire cast its light 
afar, on the summit of the tall oaks of the 
forest, the colossal stones of Karnak, and 
the boundless ocean, while the moon inun- 
dated the scene with her celestial light. 
In a few moments, naught remained of the 
funeral-pilo of Daoulasbut a heap of ashes. 

Julyan then joyfully mounted the pile 
on which the body of Armel, his friend 
and saldime, was extended. He was dressed 
in his holiday attire; his fine blue and 
white ctriped sagum was confined by an 
embroidered leather belt, from which hung 
a 'largo knife ; his brown woolen cloak was 
clasped on his left shoulder, and a wreath 
of oak-leaves adorned his manly brow. He 
hold in his hand a bunch of vervain. His 
taco Avas resolute and serene. Scarcely had 
ho mounted the funeral -pile, when thehai-ps 
and cymbals sounded, and the bards sang, 
“ Who is this ? It is Julyan, the husband- 
man — Julyan, of the fiimily of Joel, the 
broim of the tribe of Karnak. lie fears 
the gods, and all love him ; he is good, in- 
dustrious, and brave. He slew Armel, not 
through hatred, for ho loved him, but 
through excess of valor, in honorable com- 
bat, with buckler on arm and sword in 
band, like a true Breton Gaul who loves to 
show his bravery, and does not fear death. 
Armel having departed, Julyan, who was 
his sworn saldunc, w'ishes to go to rejoin 
bis friend. Glory to Julyan ! Faithful to 
the teachings of the Druids, ho knows that 
the creatures of the Almighty never die, 
and ho offers his pure and noble blood to 
Ilfsus. Glory to Julyan ! He has been 
good, just, and brave. He is about to bo 
born again, better, more just, and braver ; 
and so on, through all eternity, from world 
to Avorld, Julyan will be born again, his 
soul putting on a new body in every new 
life, as the body puts on now raiment on 
this earth. 

“ 0 Gauls ! proud souls, in whose sight 
there is no such thing as death! come, 
come! detach your eyes from earth, and 
mount to the sublimity of heaven ! See at 
your feet the abysses of space, threaded by 


those processions of immortals, like us all, 
that Teutates guides unceasingly from the 
worlds where they have lived to those 
where they are to bo born anew. Oh! 
what marvelous, strange countries through 
which to journey with the friends who 
have gone before us, and with those who 
will come after us ! ^ 

“ No, wo are not mortal ; our infinite life 
is counted by thousands and thousands of 
centuries, as the stars of the firmament are 
counted by thousands and thousands — ^mys- 
terious worlds, always new and always 
varied, Avhich wo are to inhabit in turn. 
Lot those fear death who, faithful to the 
false gods of the Greeks and Romans, 
believe that we live but once, and that 
then, divested of its body, the happy 
or unhappy soul remains eternally in the 
same hell or the same paradise ! Yes, they 
may well dread death who believe that on 
quitting this life they are stationary for all 
eternity ! 

“ Wo Gauls have the true knowledge of 
God. We have the secret of death — man 
is immortal both in body and soul. Our 
destiny, in our journey from world to world, 
is to see and to know, in order that in each 
one of his journeys, the man Avho has been 
wicked may become purified and grow 
better, and the man who has been good 
may become still more righteous; and that 
thus, from one new birth to another, we 
may rise unceasingly toward a perfection 
as infinite as our life. 

“Happy, then, are the brave men who 
voluntarily quit this earth for other coun- 
tries, where they will constantly behold 
new and marvelous things in company with 
those they love! Happy, happy is the 
brave Julyan! He goes to rejoin his 
friend, and to see and know with him Avhat 
none of us have seen and known, but what 
we all shall see and know. Happy Julyan ! 
Glory to Julyan !” 

All the bards and all the Druids, Druid- 
esses, and virgins of the Isle of Sena, re- 
peated in chorus, to the sound of the harps 
and cymbals, “ Happy, happy Julyan ! 
Glory, glory to Julyan!” And all the 
tribes, thrilled with a sensation of curiosity 
to know death, in order the sooner to ex- 
pl'^re the unknown mysteries of other 
Avorlds, repeated, with a thousand voices, 

“ Happy, happy Julyan !” 

Then Julyan, radiant, standing on the 
funeral-pile, with the corpse of Armel at 
his feet, raised his inspired looks toward 
the bright moon, opened the bosom of his 
sagum, drew his long knife, extended to- 
ward heaven the bunch of vervain which 
he held in his left hand, and with his right 
hand firmly plunged the knife into his 
breast, crying with a resolute voice, “ Happy, 
happy that I am, I go to rejoin Armel !” 

The funeral-pile was instantly kindled. 


80 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


Julyan raised the bunch of vervain for the 
last time toward the sky, and disappeared 
amidst the dazzling flames, whilo the song 
of the bards and the sound of the harps and 
cymbals resounded afar. 

A vast number of men and women be- 
longing to the different tribes, in their im- 
patience and curiosity to see and know the 
mysteries of other worlds, rushed toward 
the funeral-pile of Julyan, in order to go 
with him and to offer to llesus an im- 
mense hecatomb of their bodies. But 
Taliessin, the Arch Druid, ordered tho 
ewaghs to force back these enthusiasts, and 
cried^, “ Enough blood has flowed, without 
that which is yet to flow; tho time has 
come when Gallic blood should flow only 
for liberty ; and blood shed for liberty is 
also an acceptable offering to llesus V’ 

The ewaghs prevented, though not with- 
out great difficulty, these voluntary human 
sacrifices. Tho funeral-pile of Julyan and 
Armel continued to barn till nothing re- 
mained of it but a heap of ashes, 

A great silence fell upon tho assembled 
tribes. Ilcna, the virgin of the Isle of 
Sena, mounted the third funeral-pile. 

Joel and Margarid, their three sons — 
Guilhern, Albinik, and Mikael — with their 
wives and little children who loved Ilona 
BO well, their kindred, and all their tribe, by 
whom she was also beloved — pressed close 
together, saying, “See Ilena! seeour Ilena!'^ 
When the virgin of tho Isle of Sena 
stood erect on tho funeral-pile, adorned 
with white vails, flowers, and foliage, tho 
assembled tribes cried, with one voice, 
“How beautiful she is ! How saintly she is !” 

Joel writes this with sincerity. Ilis 
daughter Ilcna was very beautiful, thus 
standing on the funeral-pile, illumined 
from head to foot by tlio soft light of tlie 
moon, with her black tunic, her fair hair, 
crowned with green leaves, and her round 
arms — whiter than ivory — resting on her 
golden harp. 

Tho bards were silent. 

Tho virgin of tho Isle of Sena sang in a 
voice as pure as her soul : 

“ The daughter of Joel and Margarid comes with joy to 
sacrifice to lle?u3 ; 

“ 0 th'>u all-powerful god ! deliver the land of our 
fathers from the invader ! 

“ Gauls of Brittany, you have the lance and the sword ; 
“Tho daughter of Joel and Margarid has naught but 
her blood ; she offers it voluntardy to llesus ! 

“0 all-powerful God! make the Gallic lance and sword 
invincible ! 

“ 0 Ut sus ! lake my blood ; it is thine ; save our holy 
country !” 

The eldest of the Druidesses stood on tho 
funeral-pile, behind Ilcna, with tho sacred 
knife in her hand. "When Hena’s song was 
finished, tho knife flashed in tho air, and 
fell on tho virgin of the Islo of Sena. 

Her mother, her brothers, all her tribe, 
and Joel, her father, saw Hena fall on her 
knees, cross her hands on her breast, turn 


her face toward the moon, and cry with a 
firm voice : 

“ llesus, llesus, by this blood which 
flows, mercy for Gaul ! Gauls, by this 
blood which flows, victory to our arms V’ 

Tho sacrifice of Hena was thus accom- 
plished, amidst tho religious admiration of 
the tribes. All repeated, “ llesus ! mercy 
for Gaul ! Gauls ! victory to our arms 

Several youug men, roused to enthusiasm 
b^ the horoic example and tbo beauty of 
Ileua, souglit to kill themselves on her 
funeral-pi lo, in order to be born anew with 
her. The ewaghs drove them back, and 
the flames quickly enveloped the pile. 
Hena disappeared amidst dazzling splen- 
dor. In a few moments, naught remained 
of tho virgin and tho pile hut a heap of 
ashes. A fierce gust of wind suddenly blew 
from tho sea, and scattered these atoms far 
and wide. The virgin of tho Isle of Sena, 
as brilliant and pure as tho flames that had 
consumed her, had vanished in air, to re- 
vive in another world, and await the com- 
ing of those she loved. 

Tho cymbals and harps resounded anew, 
and the chief of tbo bards sang, “ To a^ms, 
Gauls ! to arms ! Tho innocent blood of a 
virgin lias flowed for you ; shall not yours 
flow for tbo country ? To arms ! behold 
the Homans! Strike, Gauls! strike the 
Homan to tho earth. Behold tho blood of 
tho enemy flowing like a river • it flows 
knee-deep ; courage ! strike hard ! strike 
harder yfft ! It flows like a lake ; it rises 
breast-high : courage, Gauls ! strike still 
harder, strike the Homan to the earth ! 
strike still harder ! thou canst rest to- 
morrow. To-morrow, Gaul will bo free; 
to-day, let there he but cue cry from the 
Seine to the ocean — To arms ! to arms !’’ 

All tho tribes, carried aw'ay by this war- 
like ardor, dispersed and rushed to arms. 
Tho moon bad disappeared, aud darkness 
had fallen upon the earth, but from the 
recesses of the forests, from the depths of 
tbo valleys, aud from the top of tho hills 
where tlio signal-fires were burning, a thou- 
sand voices repeated tho song of the bard, 
“ To arms ! Strike, Gauls, strike the Ho- 
man ! To arms V’ 


This true narrative of all that took place 
in our humble house, on tho anniversary of 
tho birth of my glorious daughter, Ilona, 
tho day which also witnessed her heroic 
sacrifice, has been written by me, Joel, the 
breun of the tribe of Karnak, in tho last 
moon of October, of tho first year that 
Julius Caesar fought in Gaul. After my 
death, my eldest son, Guilhern, will religi- 
ously keep this narrative, and after Guil- 
bern, tho sons of his sons will transmit it 
from generation to generation, in order that 
our family may forever preserve tho memo- 
ry of Hena, tho Virgin of the Isle of Sena. 


THE 


BRA.SS 

OR, 

Ibe of 

B-O. Se— 4:0_ 


BELL; 


CHAPTER I. 

Albinik the sailor and his wife Meroe, in sailor’s cos- 
tume, set out alone from the Gallic camp, to braye the 
Hon in hisden.— Their journey.— They witness a spec- 
tacle such as none had ever before seen, or would 
evermore behold. — Their arrival at Caesar’s camp. — 
Crucifixion of the five pilots — Caesar at supper.— 
The examination.— The young Moorish slave. — The 
mutilated deserter. —The ordeal.— Caesar’s hospitality. 
—Separation of Albinik and MeroS. — Merod alone in 
the tent. 

Albinik the sailor, the son of Joel, the 
brenn of the tribe of Karnak, and Meroe, 
Albinik’s dear and well-beloved wife, wit- 
nessed a spectacle, during a night and a 
day, at which they still shudder. 

Such a spectacle none had ever before 
seen, or will evermore behold. 

The summons to arms of the Druids of 
Karnak forest and the Chief of the Hun- 
dred Valleys had been heard. The sacri- 
fice of Ilena, the Virgin of the Isle of Sena, 
seemed acceptable to Ilesus, since all the 
inhabitants of Brittany, from the north to 
the south, and from the east to the west, 
had risen to oppose the Romans. The 
tribes of the territories of Vannes an^ 
Auray, with those of the mountains of 
Ares, and others beside, had assembled at 
the town of Vannes, on the left bank and 
almost at the mouth of the river that emp- 
ties into the great Morbihan Bay. Ibis 
formidable position, situated ten leagues 
from Karnak, and where all the Gallic 
forces ^were to meet, was chosen by the 
Chief of the Hundred Valleys, who had 
been elected commander-in-chief of the 
army. 

The tribes, leaving behind them their 
fields, flocks, and houses, had assembled — 
men, women, children, and old men — and 
tfucamped round the town of Vannes, wheye 
Joel, with his family and tribe, were also 
found. Albinik the sailor, as well as Jjis 
wifo Meroe, left the camp toward sunset, to 
set out on a long journey. Since her mar- 
riage with Albinik (he is proud to say), 
MeroS had always been his compmiion in 
his perils by sea and by land. Like him, 
on the ship, she wore a sailor’s dress ; like 
him, in case of need, she could take her 
place at the helm, or handle the oar or axe, 
lor her heart was brave and her arm 
strong. 


On that evening, before quitting the Gal- 
lic army, Meroe had put on her sailor cos- 
tume — a short brown woolen sagum, con- 
fined by a leather belt, full white linen 
braga,' which fell beneath the knee, and 
seal-skin gaiters. Her short, hooded man- 
tle was thrown across her left shoulder, and 
her flowing hair was covered by a leather 
cap. From her resolute air, the agility of 
her step, and the regularity of her fine and 
noble features, she would have been taken 
for a young lad whose beauty might win 
the heart of a maiden. Albinik also was 
dressed as a sailor. He cai*ried on his 
shoulder a wallet containing provisions for 
the journey, and the flowing sleeve of his 
sagum showed his left arm bandaged to the 
elbow in a bloody cloth. 

The husband and wife had just quitted 
the suburbs of Vannes, when Albinik 
stopped, sad and deeply moved, and said to 
his wife, “ Meroe, let me accomplish alone 
this jommey and undertaking, compared 
with which a fierce combat would be 
child’s iday. Return to my father and 
mother, who are yours also.” 

“ Albinik, you should have waited for 
the darkness of night to tell me this;, you 
would not have seen me blush for shame at 
the thought that you believe me a coward.” 
With these words, the young woman has- 
tened her steps, instead of turning back. 

“ Let it be as your courage and love for 
me desire,” said her husband. “ May Ilena, 
my sainted sister, who is elsewhere, inter- 
cede with Ilesus for your safety !” 

Both pursued their journey through a 
steep road, which led to and wound its way 
over the summits of a chain of high hills. 
The travelers thus overlooked a succession 
of deep and fertile valleys. As far as the 
eye could reach, they saw here villages, 
there market-towns, elsewhere isola ed 
farms, and, farther on, a flourishing .-city, 
traversed by the arm of a river, wherein 
largo vessels, laden with sheaves of wheat, 
casks of wine, and hay, were anchored hero 
and there. 

But, strange to say, though the sky was 
serene, none of the great herds of cattle 
were seen in the pastures, which usually 
fed there till nightfall ; neither were any 
husbandmen visible in the fields, though it 


6 


82 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE rE<JPLE. 


was the hour when all the foot-paths and 
roads were usually swarming with country 
people returning to their homes, for the 
sun was rapidly sinking. This cguntry, of 
late so populous, seemed deserted. 

The husband and wife paused, pensively 
contemplating these fertile lauds, this 
wealth of nature, this opulent city, and 
these hamlets and houses. Then, on think- 
ing of what would take place in a few 
moments, as soon as the sun had set and 
the moon had risen, Albinik and Meroe 
shuddered with grief and terror, the tears 
flowed from their eyes, and they fell on 
their knees, gazing with anguish at the 
deep valleys, the shadows in which grew 
deeper and deeper. The sun had disap- 
peared, but the moon, then in its wane, was 
not yet visible. There was, therefore, a 
considerable space of time between the sun- 
set and the rising of the moon — an interval 
of poignant grief to the couple, as the cer- 
tain expectation of a great calamity. 

“ Look, Albinik whispered the young 
woman to her husband, though they were 
alone — there are terrible moments when 
men whisper in the midst of the desert — 
“ look ! not a light, not one, in these houses, 
these villages, this city ! Night has come, 
and all in these dwellings remain shroud- 
ed in darkness.” 

“ The people of this country are about to 
show themselves worthy of their brethren,” 
answered Albinik, solemnly. “They also 
are about to respond to the voice of our 
venerated Druids and the Chief of the Ilun- 
dred Valleys.” 

“ Yes, by the terror that creeps over me, 
I feel that we are about to see a thing such 
as none ever yet has seen, and which none 
perhaps will evermore behold.” 

“ Meroe, do you see yonder, afar in the 
distance, behind the summits of those trees, 
a faint white light?” 

“ I see it ; the moon is rising. The mo- 
ment approaches. I feel struck with awe. 
Poor women! Poor children!” 

“ Poor husbandmen ! they who have 
lived for so many years on the lands of 
their fathers — on these lands rendered fruit- 
ful by the labor of so many generations ! 
Poor mechanics ! they who have earned a 
comfortable subsistence by their rude 
trades! 0 the unfortunates, the unfor- 
tunates! Their heroism alone equals the 
greatness of their misfortunes. Meroe, 
Meroe,” exclaimed Albinik, “ the moon is 
rising. The sacred star of Gaul is about to 
give the signal for the sacrifice.” 

“ Hesus, Hesus,” exclaimed the young 
woman, drowned in tears, “ thy wrath will 
never be appeased if this last sacrifice does 
not soothe it!” 

The moon rose radiant in the midst of 
the stars, and inundated the earth with so 
bright a light that the husband and wife 


saw the country that Lay stretched at their 
feet as clearly as if by daylight, to the 
most distant horizon. Suddenly a faint 
cloud of smoke, at first whilrish, then black, 
and quickly streaked with the red flames of 
a kindling conflagration, rose above one of 
the villages that were scattered through 
the plain. 

“ Hesus ! Hesus !” cried Meroe, hiding 
her face in the bosom of her husband, who 
knelt beside her. “ You spoke truly. The 
sacred star of Gaul has given the signal for 
the sacrifice, and it is accomplished !” 

“ 0 liberty, holy liberty !” exclaimed Al- 
binik. 

He could not finish ] his voice was choked 
with tears, as he clasped his weeping 
wile convulsively to his breast. Meroe re- 
mained with her face buried in her hus- 
band’s bosom no longer than it would have 
taken a mother to kiss the brow, lips and 
eyes of her new-born babe. When, raising 
her head, she ventured to look in the dis- 
tance, it was no longer one house, one vil- 
lage, one town, or one city of this long suc- 
cession of valleys, that was shrouded in vol- 
ufhes of black smoke, streaked with the red 
lights of the kindling conflagration, but all 
the houses, all the villages, all the towns 
and all the cities of this long chain of val- 
leys were a prey to the devouring flames. 
From the north to the south, from the east 
to the west, everything was on fire ; the 
rivers themselves seemed rolling fiery waves 
under the burning vessels, laden with 
grain, wine and hay, that were sinking be- 
neath the waters. By turns the sky was 
obscured by immense clouds of smoke, or il- 
luminated by innumerable columns of fire. 
Tfie valley was speedily naught but a fiery 
furnace, an ocean of flames, from one end to 
the other.* And not only were the houses, 
hamlets, and towns of these valleys given 
up to the ravages of the conflagration, but 
all the countries through which Meroe and 
Albinik journeyed for a night and a day, 
on their way from Vannes to the mouth of 
the Loire, where Coesar’s camp was pitched. 
Yes, all these countries have been burned 
by their inhabitants, who have abandoned 
the smoking ruins to join the Gallic army, 
assembled in the suburbs of Vannes. Thus 
has been obeyed the voice of the Chief of 
the Hundred Valleys, wHt) spoke these 
words, which were repeated from neigh- 
bor to neighbor, from village to village 
and from city to city : 

“ In three nights from this time, at the 
rising of the moon, the sacred star of Gaul' 
let all the country be burned from Vannes 
to the Loire ! Let Caesar and his army find 
on their way neither men, nor roofs, nor 

* At a little distance from the spot where St. Nazaire 
now stands. The country thus devastated by the flames 
comprised almost all of the departments of the Morbi- 
han and the Lower Loire. 


THE BRASS BELL, 


83 


provisions, nor forage, bu„ everywhere, 
everywhere, aslies, famine, solitude and 
death.” Thus has it been done according 
to the orders of the Druids and the Chief of 
the Hundred Valleys.* Those who have 
witnessed this heroic devotion of each and 
all to the safety of their country have seen 
a thing which none has ever before wit- 
nessed, and which none, perhaps, will ever- 
more behold. Thus, at least, have been ex- 
piated those fotal dissensions, those pro- 
vincial rivalries, which have too long divid- 
ed Gaul and given tlie victory to her enemies. 

The night passed, and the next day like- 
wise, and Albinik and IMeroe traveled over 
all the burned country from Yannes to the 
mouth of the Loire, which they were 
approaching. At sunset, they reached a 
spot where the road which they followed 
parted in two. 

“ Which of these roads shall we follow ?” 
said Albinik. “ One must take us to the 
camp of Ccesar, and the other lead us away 
from it,” 

After reflecting for' a ffew moments, Me- 
roe replied : “ By climbing this tree, we 
shall learn the way from the camp-fires.” 

“ It is true,” said the sailor ; and, with 
the agility of his calling, he was preparing 
to climb the branches, when suddenly he 
stopped short, saying, “ I forgot that I had 
lost a hand. I carinot climb,” 


* The patriotism of the Russians in burning Moscow to 
drive out and starve the French army has been justly 
admired ; this, however, was but a single city. How 
mucli more admirable was the patriotic devotion of our 
fathers ; for, to oppose the invasion of Gaul by the, 
Romans, not only Brittany, but one third of Gaul, was 
given to the flames by its inhabitants. We quote Caesar’s 
own words; “The Chief of the HundredValleysconvolMd 
the chiefs of the al’ied Gallic army, and declared *o 
them that it was absolutely necessary to change the sys- 
tem of warfare for another better adapted to the charac- 
ter of the national conflict ; that it was necessary to starve 
out the enemy and to intercept provisions and forage, 
which would be the more readily done inasmuch as the 
Gauls were supplied with cavalry and were favored by 
the season ; the Romans not yet being able to forage for 
grass, it would be easy to surprise them in the scattered 
dwellings whither they were driven by necessity, and 
thus to destroy them in detail. But the common safety, 
added the Chief of the Hui^lred Valleys, demands pri- 
vate sacrifices ; we must resolve to burn all of our habita- 
tions, all of our villages, and such of our towns as can- 
not be defended, that they may not afford a refuge to 
the cowards who desert our cause, or serve-to attract the 
enemy by the hope of booty ; the population will find 
an asylum in cities remote from the scene of war. These 
measures appear violent and harsh to you, but would it 
be pleasanter to see your wives outraged and enslaved, 
your children loaded with chains, your kinsmen and 
friends slaughtered, and yourselves reserved for a vio- 
lent death ? For this is the fate that awaits you if con- 
quered.” “The Chief of the Hundred Valleys,” says 
Am6dee Thierry, “ was listened to with calmness and 
resignation ; not a murmur interrupted him, not an ob- 
jection was raised to the painful sacrifice which he de- 
manded : the chiefs of the tribes unanimously voted for 
the ruin of their fortunes and the dispersal of their fam- 
ilies, This terrible remedy was applied without delay 
to the country that was in danger of being occupied by 
the enemy. Nothing was seen on all sides but the fire 
and smoke of conflagrations ; by the light of these 
flames, through these ruins and ashes, an innumerable 
multitude was seen maki^ its way toward the front- 
iers where it hoped to fitro shelter and bread ; suffer- 
ing and gloomy, but not disconsolate, since these suffer- 
ings were designed to procure the safety of the country.” 


Meroe’s beautiful face clouded as she 
exclaimed, “You are sufiering, Albinik, 
Alas ! to see you thus mutilated!” 

“ Can the sea-wolf* be caught without a 
snare ?” 

“ No.” 

“ If the fishery is but successful,” return- 
ed Albinik, “ I shall not regret having 
given my hand as a bait.” 

The young woman sighed, and, after 
looking at the tree for a moment, said, 
“ Place your back against this oak ; I will 
put my foot in the hollow of your hand, 
and then upon your shoulder, from which I 
can reach the lower branch.” 

“ Bold and-_ deyoted ! You are always 
the beloved wife of my heart, as truly as 
my sister Ilena is a saint,” replied Albinik, 
tenderly. Then, leaning his back against 
the tree, he took in his sturdy hand his 
companion’s tiny foot, which was so light 
and agile that, thanks to the vigor of his 
arm, he was able to support it till she 
stepped on his shoulder, from which she 
gained the lower branch ; then, mounting 
from bough to bouglj, she reached the 
summit of the oak, and, casting her eyes 
about, perceived toward the south, under a 
group of seven stars, the light of a number 
of fires. She descended as nimbly as a 
bird hopping from branch to branch, and, 
finally resting her feet on the shoulder of 
her husband, leaped to the earth with one 
bound, saying, “We must go southward, in 
the direction of those seven stars ; Caesar’s 
camp-fires are there.” 

“ Then we must take this road,” returned 
the sailor, pointing to the narrower of the 
paths. 

The two travelers pursued their way. 
In a few moments Meroe stopped, and 
seemed looking for something. 

“ What is the matter ?” asked her husband. 

“Wait for me; I lost my dagger while 
climbing the tree; it became loosened 
from the belt which I wear under my 
sagum.” . 

“ By Hesus 1 we must find this dagger,” 
said Albinik, returning. “ You need a 
weapon, and this my brother Mikael 
forged and tempered himself; it can cut 
through copper.” 

“Oh! I will find it, Albinik. With this 
little, sharp steel blade, one always has an 
answer ready in whatever tongue.” 

After some search under the tree, they 
found the dagger, which was contained in 
a sheath, scarcely larger than a goose- 
quill. Meroe fastened it anew under her 
sagum, and again proceeded on her way 
with her husband. They journeyed for 
some time through a steep, rough road, and 
at length reached a plain, from which the 
roaring of the sea was heard far in the 


* The shark. 


84 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


distance, while the light of several fires 
was seen on a hill near by. 

“ Here is the camp of Caesar — the den of 
the lion— at last,'^ said Albinik, pausing. 

“ The den of the scourge of Gaul ! 
Come, come ! The evening is advancing.” 

“ Meroc, the moment then has come !” 

“ Do you hesitate ?” 

“ It is too late. But I should prefer a 
fair fight in an open field, ship to ship, 
soldier to soldier, and sword to sword. 
Ah ! Meroe, for us Gauls who, despising 
ambuscades as cowardly, fasten brass bells 
to the heads of our lances in order to warn 
the enemy of our approach, to come here 
treacherously — ” 

“ Treacherously !” exclaimed his wife. 

“ And to oppress a free people — is that 
honorable? To reduce its inhabitants to 
slavery and to expatriate them by droves, 
with iron collars on their necks — is that 
honorable ? To menace old men and 
children, and to give up women to the 
brutality of the soldiers — is that honorable ? 
Yet now you hesitate, after marching a 
whole day and night by the light of the 
conflagration, amidst these smoking ruins, 
caused by the abhorrence of Roman oppres- 
sion ! No, no ! For the extermination of 
wild beasts, all means are lawful — the 
snare as well as the boar-spear. What ! do 
you hesitate ? Answer, Albinik. To say 
nothing of your voluntary mutilation — to 
say nothing of the dangers we shall incur 
in entering this camp — shall we not, if I 
Hesus aids your project, be the first victims 
in that immense sacrifice which we wish to 
ofier to the gods ? Come, believe me, he 
who gives his own life has no cause to 
blush • and by the love I bear you, by the 
virginal blood of our sister Ilena, I swear 
to you that at this moment I feel the con- 
sciousness of performing a sacred duty. 
Come, come, the evening is advancing.” 

“ What the just and valiant Meroii deems 
just and valiant must be so,” said Albinik, 
pressing his companion to his breast. “Yes, 
yes, for the extermination of wild beasts all 
means are lawful, the snare as well as the 
boar-spear. He who gives his own life has 
no cause to blush. Come.” 

Albinik and Meroe hastened toward 
Caesar’s camp. In a few moments, they 
heard the measured tread of soldiers and 
the (flanking of swords and armor, and saw 
steel casques and red plumes gleaming in 
the light of the moon. 

“They are the patrols going their 
rounds,” said Albinik. “ Let us join 
them.” 

They ^speedily overtook the Roman sol- 
diers, By whom they were instantly sur- 
rounded. Albinik had learned these Avords 
in the Roman tongue, “Wo are Breton 
Gauls ; wo wish to speak to Caesar.” Such 
were the sailor’s first words to the soldiers. 


The latter learning, in this manner, that 
the travelers belonged to one of the prov- 
inces iu arms, treated those wliom they re- 
garded as their prisoners rudely, bound 
them, and led them to the camp. This 
camp, like all those of the Romans, tvas de- 
fended by a deep, wide trench, beyond 
which were palisades and high earthworks, 
guarded by soldiers. 

Albinik and Meroe were at first led to 
one of the gates of the earthworks. By the 
side of this gate they saw — and the remem- 
brance is cruel — five great wooden crosses, 
to each of which was nailed a Gallic sail- 
or, Avith blood-stained garments. The moon 
thrcAV a bright light on the corpses. 

“ We Avere not deceived,” Avhispered Al- 
binik to his companion. “ The pilots Avere 
crucified, after sufl’ering frightful tortures, 
rather than consent to pilot Caesar’s fleet to 
the coast of Bfiitany.” 

“ To make them suffer torture and death 
on the cross — is that honorable?” answered 
Meroe. “ Do you still hesitate ? Do you 
talk of treachery ?” 

Albinik made no reply, but pressed his 
companion’s hand in the clarkness. On be- 
ing brought before the ofiicer in command 
of the post, the sailor repeated the only 
words that he knew in the Roman tongue : 

“ We are Breton Gauls ; wo wish to speak 
to Caesar.” 

In these times of Avar, the Romans often 
detained or captured travelers, iu order to 
learn of thetn Avhat was taking place iu the 
rebellious provinces. Caesar had given or- 
ders that the prisoners or refugees ay ho 
might enlighten him coucerniug the move- 
merits of the Gauls shou!*l ahvays bo 
brdiight directly to him. The husband 
and Avife Avero not surprised, therefore, to 
see themselves, as they had secretly hoped, 
conducted through the camp to Caesar’s 
tent, Avhich was guarded by the lloAver of 
his Spanish veterans, commissioned to watch, 
over his person. 

Albinik and Meroe were freed from their 
bonds on being brought to the tent of 
Caesar, the scourge of Gaul. They stroA’e to 
restrain tho.exprcssion of their hatred, and 
looked about them Avith gloomy curiosity. 
This was Avitat they saAv ; The tent of tlio 
Roman general, which Avas covered on the 
outside Avith thick skins, like all the tents 
of the camp, Avas hung on the inside Avith 
purple cloth, embroidered Avith gold and 
Avhite silk' the earth, trodden hard, Avas 
covered by a carpet of tiger-skin. Caesar 
Avas finishing supper, half reclining on a 
camp-bed, hidden by a large lion’s skin, 
with golden claAvs and carbuncle eyes. 
Within reach of the couch, on a Ioav table, 
Albinik and IMeroj saw great vessels of 
gold and silver exquis^oly chiseled, and 
cups set Avith precious stones. Seated hum- 
bly at the foot of Caesar’s coueh, Mero3 be- 


THE BRASS BELL. 


§5 


held a sad spectacle for a free woman — a 
young and beautiful slave, doubtless an 
African, for her white dress contrasted 
strongly with her copper complexion and 
her largo black eyes, wJiieh she raised slow- 
ly toward the two strangers, -while caress- 
ing a huge tawny greyhound that was 
sti'etched by her side. She seemed as timid 
as the dog. 

The generals, ofiScers, secretaries, and 
young and beautiful freedraen of Cassar 
surrounded his couch, while black Abys- 
sinian slaves, with their necks, wrists and 
ankles adorned with coral ornaments, stood 
as motionless as statues, holding torches of 
perfumed wax, by the light of Avhich glit- 
tered the splendid armor of the Romans. 

Cmsar, before -whom Albinik and Meroe 
cast down their eyes in order not to betray 
their hatred, had exchanged his armor for 
a long silken robe, richly embroidered ; his 
head w'as bare, and nothing concealed his 
high, bald forehead, on each side of which 
his brown hair Avas smoothed. The heat 
of the Gallic wine, of which he drank every 
evening immoderately, it is said, caused his 
eyes to sparkle and flushed his pale cheeks , 
his face was imperious, and his smile mock- 
ing and cruel. He was leaning on his el- 
bow, holding in his hand, emaciated by de- 
bauchery, a large golden cup, set wdth 
pearls, which he drained slowly as he fixed 
his penetrating eye on the two prisoners, 
who stood in such a manner that Albinik 
almost entii*ely concealed Meroe. 

Caesar spoke a few words, in the Roman 
tongue, to his officers. They hurst into a 
laugh, and one of them, approashing the 
prisoners, rudely pushed Albinik asi^o^nd, 
taking Meroe by the hand, drew Mr for- 
ward a few paces, doubtless in order that 
the general might gaze at her more at his 
ease, which he did as he handed his empty 
cup to one of his young cup-bearers with- 
out turning his head. 

Albinik knew how to conquer himself; 
he remained calm on seeing his chaste wife 
blush under the bold gaze of Caesar. The 
latter soon called to him a man richly clad, 
one of his interpreters, who, after exchang- 
ing a few words with the Roman general, ap- 
proached Meroe and said in the Gallic 
tongue : 

“ Caesar asks whe'ther you are man or 
woman?’^ 

“ I and my companion have fled from the 
Gallic camp,’’ answered Meroe, boldly. 

“ Whether 1 am man or woman matters 
little to Caesar.” 

At these words, which the interpreter 
translated, Caesar burst into a fit of sarcas- 
tic laughter, while the Roman officers 
shared the gayety of their- general. Caesar 
continued to empty cup after cup, fixing a 
more and more ardent gaze on the vv'ifo of 
Albinik. He said a few words to the inter- 


preter, whereupon the latter commenced 
the examination of the prisoners, transmit- 
ting their answers to the general, who then 
indicated to him new questions. 

“ Who are you,” said the interpreter, 
“ and whence have you come ?” 

“ We are Bretons,” answered Albinik. 
“Wo come from the Gallic camp, pitched 
before the walls of V annes, two da-ys’ march 
from hero.” 

“ Why did you forsake the Gallic army ?” 
Albinik made no reply, but unwound the 
bloody bandage that enveloped his arm. 
The Romans saw that his left hand had 
been cut off. 

“ W^ho has mutilated you in this man- 
ner ?” asked the interpreter. 

“ The Gauls.” 

“ But you are a Gaul yourself ?” 

“ That matters little to the Chief of the 
Hundred Valleys.” 

^ At the name of the Chief of the Hundred 
Valleys, Caesar bent his brows, and his face 
assumed an expression of hatred and envy. 
“ Explain yourself,” said the interpreter. 
“ I am a sailor, and commanded a trading- 
vessel. Myself and several other captains 
received orders to transport a largo body 
of armed men by sea to the harbor of 
Vannes, on Morbihan Bay. I obeyed. A 
gust of wind carried away one of my 
masts, and my vessel was the last to arrive, 
whereupon the Chief of the Hundred Val- 
leys ordered mo to be punished as a lag- 
gard. Ho -W'as generous, however ; he 
spared my life, and gave me the choice 
between the loss of my nose, ears, or a 
limb. I was mutilated, not for lacking 
courage or zeal ; that Avould have been 
just, and I should have submitted without 
complaint to the laws of my country.” 

“ But this iniquitous punishment,” inter- 
nipted Meroe, “"was inflicted on Albinik 
because the wind rose against him. As 
well punish with death him who cannot 
see clearly in the darkness, or who cannot 
obscure the light of the sun !” 

“ And this mutilation covers me forever 
with shame,” exclaimed Albinik. “ It says 
to all, ‘This man is a coward!’ I had 
never known hatred ; now my heart is full 
of it. Perish this accursed country, Avhere 
I can never more live honored I Perish its 
liberty — perish my people — so that I am 
avenged on the Chief of the Hundred Val- 
leys ! For this I would joyfully give the 
limbs that ho has left me. Therefore have 
I come here, wdth my companion ; sharing 
my shame, she also shares my hatred. 
This hatred avo offer to Ccesar. Let him 
use it as he will; let him try us : o^ r lives 
answer for our sincerity. As terrewards, 
Ave Avant none of them.” 

“Vengeance — that is what we want!” 
added Meroe. 

“ IIoAv can you serve Caesar against the 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


'86 

Chief of the Ilunared Valleys?” said the 
interpreter to Albinik. 

“ I offer to serve him as a sailor, a sol- 
dier, a guide, or even a spy, if he wishes.” 

“ Why did you not seek to kill the Chief 
of the Hundred V alleys while you were in 
the Gallic camp and able to approach 
him ?” said the interpreter. “ You would 
thus have been avenged.” 

“ Immediately after my husband^s muti- 
lation,” returned Meroe, “we were driven 
from the camp and forbidden to return.” 

The interpreter conversed anew with the 
Roman general, who, while listening, did 
not cease to empty his cup and to pursue 
Merou with his audacious glances. 

“ You are a sailor, you say,” resumed 
the interpreter. “ You have commanded a 
trading-vessel ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And are you a good navigator ?” 

“ I am twenty-eight ; since I was twelve 
I have been on the sea, and for the last 
four years have commanded a vessel.” 

“ Are you well acquainted with the coast 
from V annes to the channel that separates 
Great Britain and France ?” 

“ I am from the port of Vannes, near 
Karnak. For the last sixteen years, I have 
continually navigated these coasts.” 

“ Are you a good pilot ?” 

“ May I lose the limbs left me by the 
Chief of the Hundred Valleys, if there is a 
bay, a cape, an islet, a shoal, a sandbank, or 
a breaker that I do not know, from the 
Gulf of Aquitauia to the Bay of Dunkirk !” 

“ You boast of your skill as a pilot; how 
will you prove it ?” 

“ We are near the coast; to any one who 
is not a good and skillful sailor, nothing 
can be more dangerous than the navigation 
of the mouth of the Loire, going north- 
ward.” 

“ It is true,” replied the Roman ; “ yes- 
terday a Roman galley was stranded and 
lost on a sandbank.” 

“ Ho who can pilot a boat well can pilot 
* a galley well, I think,” said Albinik. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Conduct us to-morrow to the coast. I 
am acquainted with the fishing-boats of the 
country. My companion and I are sufii- 
cient to manage one of them; and from the 
shore, Caesar cun see us glide by the shoals 
and breakers, and skim over them like 
gulls over the wave. Then Caesar will be- 
lieve mo capable of safely piloting a galley 
on the coasts of Brittany.” 

Albiuik’s ofler having been interpreted 
to Caesar, the latter replied : 

“ W^v^rnpf.pt. the trial that you propose 
it shalltako place to-morrow morning. If 
it proves your skill as a pilot, it may bo 
that, all possible precautions having been 
taken against treacher}", in case that you 
should be seeking to deceive us, you will be 


charged with a commission that will satisfy 
your hatred; but for this you must gain 
the entire confidence of Crnsar.” 

“ What shall I do to obtain it ?” 

“ You must know the forces and plans of 
the Gallic army. What are they ? Be- 
ware of lying ; we have already received 
information thereof, and shall know whether 
you are sincere ; if not, the instruments of 
torture are close at hand.” 

“Having reached Vannes in the morn- 
ing, and been arrested, tried, and punished 
almost immediately, and then driven from 
the Gallic camp, it was impossible for me 
to know the deliberations of the council 
held the evening before,” replied Albinik, 
“ but the situation was considered grave, 
for the women were summoned to this 
council, which lasted from sunset to day- 
break. There was a rumor that large rein- 
forcements had reached the Gallic army.” 

“ What wmre these reinforcements ?” 

“ The tribes of Finisterre and the C6tes 
du Nord, and also those of Lisieux, Amiens, 
and Perche. It was even said that war- 
riors had arrived by sea from Brabant.” 

After translating Albinik’s reply to Cae- 
sar, the interpreter resumed, “ You tell the 
truth ; your words agree with the reports 
which we have received ; but some scouts 
who have come in this evening have 
brought the news that, two or three leagues 
from here, the light of a fire has been seen 
in the north. You come from the north, 
have you any knowledge of it ?” 

“ From the suburbs of Vannes to three 
leagues from here,” replied Albinik, “there 
remains not a city, nor a town, nor a vil- 
lage, nor a house, nor a sack of Avheat, nor 
a skin of wine, nor an ox, nor a sheep, nor 
a stack of hay, nor a man, nor a woman, 
nor a child ; provisions, cattle, and wealth 
— all that could not be carried away have 
been abandoned to the flames by the in- 
habitants. At the moment that I speak, all 
the tribes of the burned countries have ral- 
lied to the support of the Gallic army, 
leaving behind them naught but a desert, 
covered with smoking ruins.” 

As Albinik spoke, the surprise of the 
interpreter became greater and greater ; in 
his dismay, he appeared not to dare to be- 
lieve what he hearu, and hesitated to tell 
Cmsar this terrible news. At last, however, 
ho resigned himself to the necessity of doing 
so. Albinik fixed his eyes on Caesar, in 
order to read from his face the impression 
made on him by the words of the inter- 
preter. The Roman general is said to be 
very dissembling, but in proportion as the 
interpreter advanced, stupefaction, fear, 
rage, and also doubt were depicted on the 
features of the oppressor of Gaul. His 
oificers and counselors looked at each other 
in consternation, and exchangeil w'ords in a 
low voice that seemed full of anguish. 


THE BRASS BELL 


87 


Caesar, suddenly starting up from his 
couch, addressed a few hasty and violent 
words to the interpreter, who said to the 
sailor, “ Caesar accuses ^ou of falsehood. 
Such a disaster is impossible. If you have 
lied, you will expiate your crime in tor- 
tures.’^ 

Albinik and Meroii experienced a pro- 
found joy on seeing the rage and consterna- 
tion of the Roman, who was unwilling to 
believe in this heroic resolution, so fatal to 
his army. They, however, concealed this 
joy, and Albinik replied : 

“ Caesar has Numidian horsemen and in- 
defatigable steeds in his camp ; let him in- 
stantly send them out to reconnoitre ; let 
them not only traverse all the countries 
through which we have just journeyed for 
a night and a day, but let them extend their 
course eastward in the direction of Tour- 
aine ; let them go still farther, to Berry, 
and as far as their horses can carry them, 
they will pass through a desert country, 
ravaged by conflagration,” 

Scarcely had Albinik pronounced these 
words when the Ronian general gave or- 
ders to several of his oflScers, who hastily 
quitted the tent while he, returning to his 
usual dissimulation, and doubtless sorry for 
having betrayed his fears in the presence 
of the Gallic refugees, affected to smile, re- 
clined anew on his lion-skin, and again ex- 
tending his cup to his cup-bearer, drained 
it after saying to Albinik and Meroe, 
through the interpreter : 

“ Caesar empties his cup in honor of the 
Gauls, and, by Jupiter ! he thanks them for 
having accomplished what he intended to 
do himself, for old Gaul shall humble i|self 
before Romo, as submissive and repentant 
as the meanest slave, or not one of its 
towns shall remain standing, not one of its 
warriors living, not one of its inhabitants 
free !” 

“ May the gods hear Caesar !” replied Al- 
binik. “ May Gaul be enslaved or devas- 
tated ■, I shall thus be avenged on the Chief 
of the Hundred V alleys, for he will suffer a 
thousand deaths in witnessing the subjuga- 
tion or destruction of the country that I 
now curse !” 

While the interpreter translated these 
words, the Roman general, either the better 
to dissemble his fears or to drown them in 
wine, emptied his cup again and again, and 
began anew to cast ardent glances at 
Meroe ; then, appearing to reflect, ho smiled 
in a singular manner, and, making a sign to 
one of his freedmen, whispered to him and 
also to the Moorish slave, whereupon both 
quitted the tent. The interpreter then said 
to Albinik : 

“ Thus far your answers have proved 
our sincerity. If the news which you 
ring is confirmed, and you show yourself a 
bold and skillful pilot to-morrow, you will 


be able to gratify yom- revenge. If you 
satisfy Caesar, he will be generous ; if you 
deceive him, your punishment will be ter- 
rible, On entering the tent, did you see five 
men that had been crucified ?” 

“ I saw them.” 

“ They were pilots that refused to serve 
us. They were carried to the cross ; they 
could not walk, their limbs had been broken 
by torture. Such will be the fate of you 
and your companion on the slightest sus-. 
picion.” 

“ I have no more fear of these threats than 
I have hope of reward from Caesar’s muni- 
ficence,” replied Albinik, proudly, Let 
him first try me, and afterward judge 
me.” 

“ You and your companion will be taken 
to a neighboring tent and held there as 
prisoners.” 

At a sign from the Roman, the two Gauls 
were led away, and conducted through a 
winding passage covered with canvas, to 
an adjoining tent, where they were left 
alone. Feeling great distrust, and expecting 
to pass the night in this place, they exam- 
ined it with attention. The tent was cir- 
cular, and was hung with a bright-colored 
striped woolen stuff, which was stretched 
on ropes, fastened to the ground by means 
of stakes. The stuff not reaching quite to 
the ground, Albinik remarked a space 
about three times as broad as the palm of 
his hand between the coarse hides which 
served as a carpet and the lower edge of the 
tent. No other opening to the tent was vis- 
ible, except that by which Albinik and 
Meroe had just entered, and which was 
closed by the sides of the canvas overlapping 
each other. An iron bedstead, covered with 
cushions, was half enveloped in a drapery, 
which could be drawn quite around it by 
means of a long cord above the pillows. A 
brass lamp, on the end of a long rod fixed 
in the ground, lighted the interior. Alter 
silently and carefully examining the place 
where he was to pass the night with his 
wife, Albinik said in a low whisper ; 

“ Caesar will set spies on us to-night, who 
will listen to our conversation, but however 
softly they may come, or however^droitly 
they may conceal themselves, they cannot 
approach the canvas without our seeing 
them through this opening,” and ho showed 
his wife the circular spftce between the 
ground and the lower edge of the tent. 

“ Do you think, then, Albinik, that Ctesar 
has any suspicion ? Could he suppose 
that a man would have the courage to mu- 
tilate himself in order to win belief in his 
professions of resentment and vengeance ?” 

“ And our brethren — the inhabitants of 
the countries that we have just passed 
through — have they not shown a courage a 
thousand times greater than mine, in giving 
up their homes to conflagration ? My only 


88 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


hope is in our enemy’s urgent need of find- 
ing Gallic pilots to conduct his galleys to 
the coast of Prittany. Now, above all, 
that the country no longer offers any re- 
sources to his army, tlie approach by sea is 
perhaps his only means of safety. You 
saw tnat. on learning of this heroic devas- 
tation, dissembling as ho always is, they 
say, he could not conceal his rage and con- 
sternation, which lie soon strove to forgot 
in the intoxication of the cup. And this 
was not the only intoxication to which ho 
abandoned himself. I saw you blush un- 
der the obstinate gaze of this infamous 
profligate.” 

“ 0 Albinik ! while my forehead blushed 
with shame and anger under the eyes of 
Caesar, twice my hand sought and grasped 
the hilt of my dagger. At one moment I 
measured the distance between me and himj 
he was too far off.” 

“At tlie first movement, and before you 
could have reached him, you would have 
been pierced with a thousand blows. Our 
plan is better. If it succeeds',” said Al- 
binik, casting an expressive glance at his 
companion, and gradually elevating his 
voice, instead of speaking in a whisper, 
as he had hitherto done — “if our plan 
succeeds, if Caesar lias faith in my word, 
we can at last avenge ourselves on my tor- 
mentor. Oh ! I tell you, I feel now toward 
Gaul all the hatred that I formerly felt 
toward the Romans.” 

Meroe, surprised at Albinik’s words, 
looked at him almost without comprehend- 
ing him ; but, by a gesture, he drew her 
attention to the opening at tlie bottom of 
the tent, where the toes of the interpreter’s 
sandals were visible. 

“ I share your hatred as I have shared 
the love of your heart and the perils of 
your seafarina: life,” returned Meroe. “Ile- 
sus grant that Caesar may comprehend the 
services that j'ou can render him, and that 
1 may witness your revenge, as I have wit- 
nessed your punishment !” 

fliesc words and others, exchanged be- 
tween the husband and wife, in order to 
deceive l.he interpreter, having doubtless 
satisfied him as to their sincerity, they per- 
ceived tliat he withdrew from the tent. A 
few moments after, just as Albinik and 
Meroe. wearied by their journey, were 
about to throw themselves, dressed as they 
were, on the bod, the interpreter appeared 
at the entrance of the tent, through which 
several Spanish soldiers were seen. “ Caesar 
wishes to speak to you immediately,” said 
he, “follow me.” 

Albinik, persuaded that the suspicions of 
the Roman general, if ho had entertained 
any, had just been dispelled by the report 
of the interpreter, believed himself on the 
point of learning the commission which 
was to be intrusted to him, and was pre- 


paring to quit the tent with Meroe, when 
the interpreter, arresting the latter by a 
gesture, said, “ You cannot accompany us ; 
Caesar wishes to speak with your compan- 
ion alone.” 

“ I will not leave Meroe,” said the sailor, 
taking his wife’s- hand. 

“ Dare you refuse to obey my orders ?” 
rejoined the interpreter. “ Take care, take 
care !” , 

“ We will both go to Caesar, or neither 
of us will go,” returned Meroe. 

“ Poor fools ! are jmu not prisoners, and 
at our mercy ?” said the interpreter, point- 
ing to the soldiers standing motionless at 
the entrance of the tent. “I will be obeyed, 
either willingly or by force.” 

Albinik reflected that to resist was im- 
possible. Death did not terrify him j but 
to die was to abandon his projects at the 
very moment that tliey seemed about to 
succeed. Nevertheless, he was uneasy at 
leaving Meroe alone in the tent. His wife 
divined his fears; and feeling, like him, 
that they must submit to necessity, she said, 

“ Go alone ; I will .wait for you without 
fear, as surely as your brother is a skillful 
armorer.” 

At these words of Meroe, remembering 
that she wore under her sagum a dagger 
forged by Mikael, Albinik more tranquilly 
followed the interpreter. The canvas of 
the entrance, which had been raised for a 
moment, fell. In a few instants, Meroe 
fancied that she heard the shock of a 
heavy body in that direction. She ran 
thither, and perceived that a thick osier 
screen had been placed on tlie outside in 
such a manner as to block up the entrance. 
Surprised at first by this precaution, she 
reflected that it was better for her to remain 
thus secluded while awaiting Albinik, and 
that perhaps he himself had asked that 
the tent should be thus closed until his 
return. 

Meroe seated herself pensively on the 
bod, full of hope in the conversation which 
her husband was then doubtless holding 
with Caesar. She was suddenly aroused 
from her reverie by a singular noise from 
the direction opposite the bed. Almost im- 
mediately, the canvas was rent asunder 
from the" top to the bottom. Meroe started 
up; her first impulse was to arm herself 
witli the dagger that she wore under her 
sagum ; then, trusting in herself and the 
weapon she held, she waited, calling to 
mind the Gallic proverb, “lie who holds 
his own death in his hands has nothing to 
dread except from the gods.” At that 
moment the canvas opened, and from the 
I thick darkness emerged the young Moorish 
I slave in her white garments. 


THE BRASS BELL. 


89 


CHAPTER 11. 

Treachery of the Moorish slave. — Csesar and Mero6. — 
The coffer of precious stones. — The cord. — Address and 
generosity of Csesar. — The pilot-boat — Tor e Benn, 
the war song of the Gallic sailors. — Albiuik pilots the 
^oman fleet to Morbiban Bay. — 'he man with the 
axe. — The Channel of Perdition. — The Roman veteran 
and his two sons. — Encounter with an Irish vessel. — 
The quicksands. — A Breton never is a traitor. 

No sooner had the Moorish girl entered 
the tent, than she fell on her knees and ex- 
tended Her clasped hands toward the com- 
panion of Albinik, wlio, touched by this 
supplicating gesture and by the grief im- 
printed on the features of the slave, felt 
neither distrust nor fear, but compassion, 
mingled with curiosity, and laid her dagger 
at the head of the bod. The young Moor 
crept forward on her knees, still extending 
both hands toward Meroly who leaned for- 
ward pityingly to raise her from the 
ground ; when the slave, having thus ap- 
proached the bed on which the dagger lay, 
bounded forward and seized the weapon, 
of which her eyes, doubtless, had not lost 
sight since she entered the tent, and before 
the wife of Albinik could recover from her 
stupor, the dagger was hurled from the 
tent amidst the darkness. 

The Moor burst into a fit of savage laugh- 
ter when she had thus disarmed Meroe, 
who, seeing herself betrayed, ru.shed to- 
ward the opening in order to find her 
dagger or to fly, when she saw Caesar issue 
from the darkness and enter the tent. 

Seized with terror, the Gallic woman fell 
back. Caesar continued to advance, and 
the slave disappeared through the opening, 
which closed after her. From the Romanes 
uncertain step, his fiery glances, and the 
animation which flushed his cheeks, Meroe 
saw that he w'as half intoxicated, which 
lessened her fear. lie held in his hand a 
casket of precious wood. After silently 
gazing at the young woman with such 
effrontery that she felt the blush of shame 
mount anew to her brow, he took from the 
casket a richly-chased gold necklace, and 
flashed it before the lamp, as if the better 
to display it in the eyes of her whom he 
wished to tempt; then, feigning an ironical 
respect, he stooped, laid the necklace at the 
feet of the Gallic woman, and rising, inter- 
rogated her with an audacious glance. 
Meroe, standing wdth her arms folded on her 
breast, which heaved with scorn and in- 
dignation, looked proudly at Caesar and re- 
pulsed the necklace with her foot. The 
Roman made a gesture of insulting sur- 
prise, laughed with an air of disdainful 
confidence, and, choosing from the casket a 
magnificent gold net for the hair, set with 
carbuncle.s, flashed it in the light of the 
lamp as he had done the necklace deposited 
it at Meroc's feet, i-cdouljling his ironical 
respect, and rising, seemed to sa}' to her. 


“This time I am certain of triumph.’’ 
Meroe, pale with anger, smiled disdainful- 
ly ; whereupon Caesar poured at her feet 
the whole contents of the casket — a shower 
of gold, pearls and precious stones, neck- 
laces, belts, ear-rings, bracelets, and jewels 
of all sorts. 

This time Meroe did not content herself 
with repulsing this wealth with her foot, 
but trampled it under the heel of her boot, 
and with a look arrested the infamous 
profligate who was advancing toward her 
with open arms. A moment astounded, the 
Roman placed both hands on his heart as 
if to protest his adoration; the Gallic 
woman replied to this mute language by a 
burst of laughter so contemptuous that 
Caesar, drunk with passion, wine and anger, 
seemed to say, “ I have offered you wealth, 
and have sued to you, but all in vain; now 
I shall have recourse to force.” 

Alone, disarmed, and persuaded that her' 
cries would bring her no aid, the wife of 
Albinik leaped on the bed, seized the long 
cord which served to draw the curtains, 
tied it around her neck, and mounted the 
head of the bed, ready to spring into the 
air and strangle herself by the weight of 
her body at the fii’st movement of Caesar. 
The latter saw so desperate a resolution on 
the features of Meroe that he stood motion- 
less, and, whether through remorse for his 
violence — whether through the certainty, if 
he employed force, of having naught but a 
corpse in his possession — or whether, lastly, 
as he afterward adroitly pretended, he had 
been acting under the impulse of a hidden 
and almost generous motive, ho fell back a 
few paces and raised his hands to heaven, 
as if calling the gods to witness that he 
would respect his prisoner. The latter, 
still distrustful, stood ready to take her 
own life. The Roman moved toward the 
secret opening of the tent, disappeared for 
a moment in the darkness, gave an order in 
a loud voice, and speedily returned, remain- 
ing at a considerable distance from the 
bed, with his arms folded on his toga. 
Ignorant whether the danger which she 
had run might not bo about to increase, 
Meroe remjiiued standing on the bed, with 
the cord around her neck. In a few mo- 
ments, however, she saw the interpreter 
enter, accompanied by Albinik, whose side 
she reached with one bound. 

“ Your wife is a woman of heroic virtue,” 
said the interpreter to him. “ Behold these 
treasures at her feet — she has rejected 
them. The love of the great Cm.sur was 
offered her — she disdained it. He feigned 
to have recourse to violence — your Avife, 
disarmed by stratagem, was ready to put 
herself to death. She has therefore come 
off gloriously from the te.st.” 

“ A test !” returned Albinik, with an 
air of sinister doubt — “ a test ! Who has 


90 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


the right here to try the virtue of my 
wife 

“ The feelings of revenge which brought 
you to the Roman camp were those of a 
proud soul roused to indignation by in- 
justice and barbarity; the mutilation 
which you have suffered seemed, above all, 
to prove the sincerity of your words ; but 
fugitives always inspire a secret distrust. 
The husband is often judged by the wife ; 
yours is a valiant woman. To inspire such 
fidelity, you must be a man of courage and 
honor. It is of this that Caesar wished to 
assure himself.” 

“ I have my doubts,” replied the sailor, 
with a distrustful air. “ The profligacy of 
your general is well known.” 

“The gods have sent us a precious auxil- 
iary in your person that may become fatal 
to Gaul. Do you believe Caesar mad 
, enough to wish to make an enemy of you 
by outraging your wife, and this at the very 
moment when, perchance, he is about to 
intrust you with an important mission ? 
No, I repeat, he wished to try you both, and 
thus far you have stood the test well.” 

Caesar interrupted his interpreter, and 
said a few words to him, then bowing re- 
spectfully to Meroe and saluting Albinik 
with a friendly gesture, he withdrew slowly 
and majestically. 

“ You and your wife are henceforth sure 
of the general’s protection,” said the inter- 
preter. “ lie has pledged his word that 
you shall not again be separated or mo- 
lested. The wife of the courageous sailor 
has despised these rich jewels,” added the 
interpreter, picking them up and replacing 
them in the casket. “ Caesar wishes to 
keep in memory of the virtue of a Gallic 
woman the dagger of which she was de- 
prived by stratagem. Rest assured, how- 
ever, that she will not remain unarmed.” 

Almost at the same instant two young 
freedmen entered the tent, bearing on a 
large silver salver a little Oriental dagger 
of costly workmanship, and a short Spanish 
sword, slightly curved, and suspended from 
a baldric of red leather, magnificently em- 
broidered with gold. The interpreter pre- 
sented the dagger to Meroii and the sword 
to Albinik, saying, “ Rest in peace, and 
keep these gifts of Caesar’s munificence.” 

“ Assure him,” returned Albinik, “ that 
his words and generosity have dispelled 
my suspicions ; he will henceforth have 
no more devoted auxiliary than I, till my 
vengeance is satisfied.” 

The interpreter withdrew with the freed- 
men. Albinik told his wife that the inter- 
preter had conducted him to Caesar’s tent, 
where they had remained till a slave had 
summoned them to return ; and Meroe, in 
turn, told Albinik all that had happened 
during his absence. They concluded, not 
without probability, that Caesar, half intox- 


icated, had at first yielded to an infamous 
thought, but that the desperate resolution 
of the Gallic woman, and doubtless, also, 
the reflection that he risked alienating a 
fugitive who might be useful to him, hav- 
ing dispelled the fumes of wine, ho V^id, 
with his habitual address and cunning, 
under the pretense of a test, given an appear- 
ance almost of generosity to an odious 
deed. 

The next morning, Caesar, accompanied 
by his generals, repaired to the bank, over- 
looking the mouth of the Loire, where a 
tent had been pitched. From this place 
could be seen the sea and its dangerous 
coasts, abounding in sandbanks and rocks 
on a level with the water. The wind blew 
violently. A fishing-bark, at once light 
and strong, and rigged in the Gallic fashion, 
with a single square sail, cantwise, was 
anchored by the shore. Albinik and Meroe 
were conducted thither. 

“ The weather is stormy and the sea 
threatening,” said the interpreter ; “ dare 
you venture in this boat alone with your 
wife ? There are some fishermen, prisoners, 
here ; do you Avish their aid ?” 

“ My wife and I have braved many dan- 
gerous tempests alone in our boat, on our 
way through the storms to my vessel, an- 
chored off the shore.” 

“But now that you are mutilated, how 
can you maneuver ?” 

“ One hand is enough to steer with, and 
my wife will set the sail. It is a woman’s 
trade to handle linen,” added the sailor, 
gayly, in order to inspire the Roman with 
confidence. 

“ Go then,” said the interpreter. “ May 
the gods conduct you.” 

The bark, launched by several soldiers, 
rocked for a moment, from the flapping of 
the sail in the Avind, but Meroii soon set it,' 
while her husband held tho rudder ; the 
breeze filled the sail, and tho bark SAvayed 
gracefully, and seemed to skim the waves 
like a sea-bird. Meroe, in her sailor-dress, 
stood at the prow, her black hair floating 
in the wind, and the white spray dashing 
in her noble and beautiful face. Albinik 
knew these coasts as well as a shepherd 
knows the wastes on which he feeds his 
flocks. The bark seemed to sport Avith the 
giant waves; from time to time, Albinik 
and Meroe discerned on tho distant shore 
the tent of Csesar, Avith its purple stream- 
ers, and saAv the gold and silver armor of 
his generals glittering in the sun. 

“ 0 Caesar ! thou scourge of Gaul, thou 
cruel and most profligate of men,” exclaim- 
ed Meroe; “thou knoAvest not that this 
frail bark, Avhich perhaps thou art now 
following at a distance Avith thine eyes, 
bears two of thy implacable enemies ! 
Thou knowest not that they have devoted 
their lives in advance to Hesus,in the hope 


THE BRASS BELL. 


of offering to Teutates, the god of travelers 
by land and sea, a sacrifice worthy of him 
— a sacrifice of many thousands of Romans, 
engulfed in the depths of the ocean ! 
And, stretching our hands toward thee, 
grateful and joyous, 0 Ilesus! we'shall be 
swallowed up m the whirlpool with the 
enemies of our sacred Gaul !” 

The bark of Albinik and Meroe, grazing 
the shoals and breakers in the tortuous 
passages, now stood out to sea, and then 
neared the shore. The wife of the sailor, 
seeing him sad and pensive, said : 

“ Why are you so thoughtful, Albinik? 
Everything seconds our plans; the sus- 
picions of the Roman general are dispelled; 
the skill of your maneuvering will deter- 
mine him to accept your services, and to- 
morrow, perhaps, you will pilot the galleys 
of our enemies.^’ 

“ Yes, I will pilot them to the whirlpool, 
where they will be swallowed up with us.’’ 

“ What a magnificent ofiering to our 
gods ; ten thousand Romans, perhaps !” 

“ Meroe,” replied Albinik, with a sigh, 
“when, after ceasing to live here, together 
with these soldiers — brave warriors, after 
all — we shall be born elsewhere with them, 
they will have a right to say to me, ‘ It was 
not valiantly, with lance and sword, that 
you slew us ; no, you plew us without fight- 
ing, by treachery. You were watching at 
the helm, while we were sleeping, confiding 
and' tranquil ; you steered us to the whirl- 
pool, and the sea swallowed us up in an 
instant. You were like a cowardly pois- 
oner, who throws poi.son kito his enemy’s 
cup. Was this valiant? No, it was not 
the frank daring of your fathers, those 
proud Gauls who fought us half-naked, 
jeering at our iron armor, and asking why 
we fought if we were afraid of wounds and 
death.’ ” 

“ Ah !” exclaimed Meroe, with bitterness 
and griefj “why did the Druidesses teach 
me that a woman should escape insult by 
death ? Why did your mother Margarid 
80 often relate to us, as an heroic example 
for us to follow, the story of your ances- 
tress Sioraai’a, who cut oft' the head of the 
Rorn^ai who had outraged her, and carried 
it to her husband in the skirt of her robe, 
with the proud and chaste words, ‘Two 
living men cannot boast of having pos- 
sessed me !’ Ah ! why did I not yield to 
Caesar ?” 

Meroe !” 

“ Then, perhaps, you would have avenged 
yourself! Faint heart and nerveless soul, 
must the outrage be accomplislied, the cup 
of shame drained, to kindle your wrath ?” 

“ Meroe, Meroe !” 

“ It is not enough for you, then, that this 
Roman should have proposed to your wife 
to sell herself — to give herself to him in 
exchange for his gifts? It was to your 


91 

wife — your wife, do you hear ? — that Caesar, 
made tnis ignominious offer!” 

“You speak truly,” answered the sailor, 
his heart kindling at the remembrance of 
these insults ; “ I was faint-hearted.” 

Ilis wife pursued, with redoubled bitter- 
ness : “ No, I see that it was not enough. I 
should have died ; then, perhaps, you would 
have sworn vengeance on my body. Ah ! 
these Romans, of whom we wish to make 
an offering to the gods, inspire you with 
pity. They were not accomplices in the 
crime which Caesar sought to commit, you 
say ? Answer : would these soldiers — 
these brave warriors — have come to my 
aid if, instead of trusting to my courage 
alone and drawing my strength from my 
love for you, I had cried, weeping and sup- 
plicating, ‘ Romans ! in the name of your 
mothers, defend me from your general’s 
violence ?’ Answer : would they have 
come at my call — would they have forgot- 
ten that I was a Gaul, and that Caesar was 
Caesar? Would the generous hearts of 
these brave men, who, after outraging the 
mothers, drown the children in their blood, 
have been roused to indignation ?” 

Albinik did not suffer his wife to finish. 
He bluslied at his weakness; he blushed at 
having for an instant forgotten the horrors 
committed by the Romans in their impious 
war; he blushed at having forgotten that 
the sacrifice of the enemies of Gaul is the 
most acceptable of all offerings to Hesus. 
Mn his anger, and for his sole answer, lie 
struck up the war-song of the Breton sail- 
ors, as if wishing the wind to carry these 
words of defiance and death to the ears of 
Csesar: . 

“ Tor e benn ! Tor e berm !* 

“ As I was lying on my deck, I heard the 
sea-eagle call in the midst of the night, 
lie was calling his eaglets and all the 
birds of the shore ; and thus he cried : 
‘ Arise, all of ye ; come, come hither.’ ‘No, 
it is not the flesh of dogs or sheep that we 
wish, but the flesli of the Romans.’ 

“ Tor e benn ! ' Tor e berm ! 

“ ‘ Old sea-bird, tell me, w'hat hast thou 
there ?’ ‘ I have the head of the Roman 
chief; I am going to pluck out both his 
eyes.’ ‘ And thou, sea-wolf, what hast thou 
there ?’ ‘ I have the heart of the Roman 
cliief, which I am gnawing.’ ‘ And thou, 
sea-serpent, what dost thou there, coiled 
around that neck, with thy flat head close 
to those cold blue lips ?’ ‘ I am w^atching 
for the soul of the Roman chief in its 
flight.’ 

“ Tor e benn ! Tor e benn /” 

Meroe, roused to enthusiasm by this war- 
song, repeated the chorus, in defiance of 
Cccsar, whose tent was seen in the distance, 


* This Gallic war-cry signified Strike the head, or 
Fell to the earth. 


92 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


“ Tor e benn ! Tor e benn !’^ wliile the bark 
shot forward, sporting with the rocks and 
shoals of the dangerous channels, now 
standing out to sea, and now skirting the 
shore. 

“You are the boldest and most skillful 
pilot that I ever met in my life, notwith- 
standing all that I have journeyed by sea,” 
said Cffisar to Albinik, as soon as he re- 
gained the shore and landed with Meroe. 

“ To-morrow, if the weather is favorable, 
you shall jiilot an expedition, the end, of 
which will bo made known to you when 
you put to sea.” 

The next morning at sunrise, the weather 
being found propitious and the sea smooth, 
Cmsar determined that the Roman galleys 
should put to sea, and sent for Albinik. 
By tho side of the Roman general stood 
motionless a warrior of prodigious stature 
and ferocious air. He was covered from 
head to foot with a flexible armor, made of 
iron links interlaced togetljer, and looked 
like a statue of iron; in his hand he held a 
short and heavy two-edged axe. The inter- 
preter said to Albinik, pointing to tho sol- 
dier, “You see this man; during the jour- 
ney, he will follow you like your shadow. 
If, through neglect or treachery, a single 
one of the galleys should bo stranded, he 
has orders to kill you and your wife on the 
spot. If, on tho contrary, you steer the 
fleet safely to port, the general will load 
you with gifts, and the most fortunate will 
envy you.” • 

“ Caesar shall be content,” replied Albi- 
nik. Then, followed closely by the soldier 
with tho axe, he and Meroe embarked on the 
praetorian galley, the course of which 
guided that of the others, and which was 
distinguished by three gilt torches at the 
poop. Each galley carried seventy oars- 
men, ten sailors to manage the sails, fifty 
archers and slingers in light armor, and a 
hundred and fifty soldiers, clad in iron from 
head to foot. 

When the galleys had quitted the shore, 
tho praetor, tho military commandant of 
the fleet, commanded Albinik, through an 
interpreter, to steer northward to Morbi- 
han Bay, and to land in the suburbs of 
Vannes, where the Gallic army was assem- 
bled. Albinik, with his hand on the tiller, 
transmitted his orders, through tlie inter- 
preter, to the chief oarsman, who, by means 
of an iron hammer, with which he struck a 
brass bell, quickly or slowly, by tho in- 
structions of tho pilot, thus indicated tho 
movement of the oars according as it was 
necessary to accelerate or to slacken the 
speed of the prajtoriau galley, by which 
the Roman fleet guided its course. 

The galleys, impelled by a favorable 
wind, advanced northward. According to 
tho interpreter, the oldest mariners marveled 
at tho boldness and alertness of the Gallic 


pilot. After a considerable length of time, 
tho fleet reached the southernmost extrem- 
ity of IMorbihan Bay, and prepared to en- 
ter its waters, the most dangerous on all 
the coast of Brittany, on account of the mul- 
titude of islets, rocks, and sandbanks, and, 
most of all, undercurrents of irresistible 
violence. 

An islet, situated midway in the en- 
trance to the bay, which was shut in 
by two promontories, divided this en- 
trance into two exceedingly narrow chan- 
nels. Nothing on the surface of the waters, 
neither breakers, nor foam, nor change of 
color in the waves, indicated the slightest 
difierence between these two passages. 
Nevertheless, one presented no danger, while 
the other was so formidable that in a hun- 
dred strokes of the oars, the vessels enter- 
ing this channel in single file, guided by the 
praetorian galley, piloted by Albinik, would 
be gradually drawn, by the strength of the 
undercurrent, toward a cluster of rocks 
which was seen at a distance, and over 
which the sea, everywhere else calm, was 
dashing with fury. The commanders of 
the galleys could only perceive the danger, 
however, one after the other, each one dis- 
cerning it only from the rapid drifting of 
the vessel that preceded him, and then it 
would be too late; for the violence of the 
current would hurry forward and precipi- 
tate vessel after vessel into the whirlpool, 
where, tossed about, and coming violently 
into collision with each other, they would 
either split and sink with their crews, or be 
dashed to pieces on the rocks. A hundred 
strokes more of the oars, and the fleet was 
lost in th\s channel of perdition. 

The sea was so calm and smooth that no 
one among the Romans suspected the perils. 
The oarsmen sang in tune to the measured 
strokes of their oars ; some of tho soldiers 
were cleaning their arms, others were asleep 
at tho prow, and others were playing at 
hucklehones. At a little distance from Al- 
binik, who never left the holm, a veteran, 
with white hairs and scarred face, was seat- 
ed on one of tho benches of tho poop, be- 
tween his sons, two beautiful young archers, 
of from eighteen to twenty. While chat- 
ting with their father, each had familiar- 
ly passed an arm around the neck of the old 
soldier, and all three sat thus entwined to- 
getlier, talking with sweet trust and tender 
affection. Albinik, in spite of his hatred of 
the Romans, could not help sighing com- 
passionately on thinking of tho fate of all 
these soldiers, who had no idea of the near- 
ness of death. 

At that ihoment, one of the light craft 
used .by the sailors of Ireland issued from 
Morbihan Bay by the channel that pre- 
sented no danger. Albinik, in his voca- 
tion, had made frequent vo3-ages to the coast 
of Ireland, a country inhabited by people 


THE BRASS BELL 


93 


of Gallic origin, a^id speaking almost the 
same language as the Gauls, but with an 
accent which rendered it difficult of com- 
prehension to any one who was not accus- 
tomed to it like Albinik. 

The Irishman, whether fearing to be 
pursued and taken by some one of the war- 
like galleys wfiich he saw approaching, 
and seeking to escape the danger by coming 
himself to meet the fleet; or whether, 
thinking to give it some valuable informa- 
tion, steered toward the praetorian galley, 
which led the way. Albinik trembled. 
The interpreter, perhaps, might question the 
Irishman, and learn from him the danger 
which the fleet would encounter by taking 
one of the channels. He therefore ordered 
the oarsmen to hasten their speed, in hopes 
to reach the Channel of Perdition before 
the craft could overtake the galleys. The 
commander, however, exchanged a few 
words with the interpreter, upon which the 
latter bade the sailor wait for the vessel 
that was approaching, in order to make in- 
quiries of it respecting the Gallic fleet. 
Albinik obeyed, not daring to thwart this 
command for fear of arousing suspicion, 
and the little craft was soon within hailing 
distance of the galley. 

The interpreter, advancing, addressed the 
Irishman in Gallic, “ Where are you from ? 
Whither are you bound ? Have you met 
any vessels at sea V’ 

The Irishman signified by gestures that 
he did not understand the questions, and said, 
in broken Gallic, “ I bring news to the fleet.’' 

“ What language does this man speak 
said the interpreter to Albinik. “ I do not 
understand it, though it does not seem 
wholly strange to me.” 

“ lie speaks a mixture of Irish and 
Gallic,” replied Albinik. “I have often 
traded on the coast of bis country, and 
know his language. He comes to bring 
news to the fleet.” 

“ Ask him what this news is.” 

“ What news do you bring ?” shouted Al- 
binik. 

“The Gallic vessels frbm the different 
ports of Brittany assembled yesterday in 
this bay,” replied the Irishman. “ They 
are very numerous, strongly manned, well 
armed, and ready -for battle. They have 
chosen their anchorage at the farthest point 
of the bay, close by the harbor of V annes ; 
you cannot see them till you have doubled 
the promontory of Aclkern.” . , 

“ The Irishman brings favorable news,” 
said Albinik. “ The Gallic fleet is dispersed 
in all directions ; part of its vessels are in 
the Auray lliver, and the rest are still farther 
off, in the direction of Audiern Bay and 
Ushaut. The only ships in this bay for the 
defense of the port of Vannes are five or 
six old trading-vessels, hastily and insuffi- 
ciently armed.” 


“ By Jupiter !” cried the delighted inter- 
preter, “ the gods, as usual, are friendly to 
Cassar.” 

The praetor and the officers, to whom 
the interpreter repeated the false news 
given by the pilot, also ay)peared rejoiced 
at the dispersal of the Gallic fleet. Vannes 
was thus delivered almost defenseless to the 
power of the Romans, on the side of the sea. 

Albinik then said to the interpreter, 
pointing to the soldier with the axe, 

“ Caesar distrusts me ; blessed bo the gods 
for permitting me to prove the injustice of 
his suspicious. Do you see that islet yon- 
der, a hundred oars’ length from here ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ There are but two passages to the bay, 
one at the right and the other at the left of 
this islet. The fate of the Roman fleet 
was in my hands; I might have piloted 
you into one of these passages, which 
nothing distinguishes by sight from the 
other, but in which an undercurrent would 
have drifted your galleys on the rocks, and 
not one would have escaped.” 

“ What do you say ?” exclaimed tho in- 
terpreter, while Meroe looked with grief 
and surprise at her husband, who seemed to 
have abandoned his project of vengeance. 

“I speak the truth,” replied Albinik, 

“ and I will prove it to you. This Irish- 
man knows the dangers of the bay which he 
is quitting as well as I do ; I will ask him 
to go before us as a pilot, and will mark 
out to you in advance the course that he 
will follow. In the first place, ho will take 
the channel at the right of the islet, and 
will go straight forward almost to the 
point of land which you see yonder ; then 
he will turn abruptly to tho right till ho is 
off those high black rocks which you see 
there. This channel passed and these rocks 
avoided, we shall be in safety in the bay. 

If the Irishman follows this course, step 
by step, will you still distrust me ?” 

“No, by Jupiter!” replied the inter- 
preter. “ It would bo madness to have the 
least suspicion of you thenceforth.” 

“Try me, then,” returned Albinik, ad- 
dressing a few words to the Irishman, who 
consented to pilot tho vessels. Ills course 
was precisely that marked out by Albinik. 
Tho latter, having given tho Romans this 
pledge of sincerity, divided tho fleet into 
three files, and guided them for some dis- 
tance through the islets with which tho 
bay is filled ; then he ordered tho oarsmen 
to rest on their oars. From the spot where 
they lay, it was impossible to sec tho Gallic 
fleet, which was anchored at tho farthest 
part of the bay, scarcely two leagues oil, 
but hidden from all eyes by a high promon- '• 
tory. * • 

Albinik then said to tho interpreter, “ TVe 
have to encounter only one more danger, 
but that is a great one. There are quick- 


94 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


Bands befora us, which sometimes change 
place with the tides, and in which the gal- 
leys may become imbedded; I must, there- 
fore, go before and sound the passage, before 
piloting the fleet. Let the oarsmen lay on 
their oars in this spot ; launch the smallest 
of your boats, with two oarsmen ; my wife 
will steer; and if you still have any suspi- 
cion, you and the soldier with the axe can 
accompany me in the boat; then the pas- 
sage once sounded, I will return on board 
the galley and pilot the fleet to the entrance 
of the harbor of Vannes.” 

“I no longer suspect you, for my part,” 
replied the interpreter, “ but by Caesar’s or- 
ders, neither I nor this soldier can quit you 
for an instant.” 

“Let it be as you desire,” returned Al- 
binik. 

The small boat was immediately launch- 
ed, two oarsmen entered it with the soldier 
and the interpreter, Albinik and Meroe em- 
barked in turn,' and the boat pushed off 
from the Roman fleet, which, drawn up in 
the form of a crescent, lay on its oars, await- 
ing the return of the pilot. Meroe, seated 
at the helm, steered the boat according to 
the directions of her husband, who, kneel- 
ing and bending over the prow, sounded the 
passage by means of a heavy plummet, 
fastened to a long, thick rope. The boat 
skirted one of the numerous islets of Mor- 
bihan Bay. Behind this islet stretched a 
long sandbank, which the ebbing tide was 
beginning to lay bare, then, beyond the 
sandbank, were some rocks bordering on the 
shore. Albinik had just cast the plummet 
anew ; while he seemed to be examining the 
rope to ascertain the depth of the water, he 
exchanged a rapid glance with his wife, in- 
dicating to her by a look the soldier and 
the interpreter. Meroe understood his 
meaning. The interpreter was seated by 
her in the stern ; then came the two oars- 
men on their bench, and lastly the man 
with the axe, standing behind Albinik, who 
was leaning over the prow, plummet in 
hand. Suddenly rising, the latter trans- 
formed his plummet into a terrible weapon ; 
giving it momentum by a rapid movement 
like a slinger, with the heavy lead attaclied 
to the string, ho struck the soldier’s casque 
so violently, that the latter fell in the bot- 
tom of the boat, stunned by the blow. The 
interpreter attempted to rush to his com- 
anion’s aid, but Meroci seized him by the 
air ; he staggered backward, lost his bal- 
ance, and fell into the sea. One of the oars- 
men lifted his oar against Albinik, and was 
instantly struck down by the plummet. 
Meroc turned the rudder and steered the 
boat so near the islet that she and her hus- 
band easily leaped on shore, and both has- 
tily climbed the steep rocks. There was 
nothing now between them and the main- 
land but a sandbank, part of which was left 


bare by the ebbing tide ; but that this was 
quagmire was evident from the bubbles of 
air which continually appeared on the sur 
face. To attempt to cross this bank, in or- 
der to reach the rocks of the coast, was to 
perish in the quagmire concealed beneath 
its deceitful sands. Already Albinik and 
Meroci heard, from the othei* side of the is- 
land, which was concealed from them by 
the rising ground, the cries of the soldier, 
who had recovered from his swoon, and the 
voice of the interpreter, who had doubtless 
been dragged from the water by the oars- 
men. Albinik, who was accustomed to 
these parts, perceived from the coarseness 
of the gravel and the clearness of the wa- 
ter that covered it, that the sandbank was 
firm a little higher up. He therefore 
crossed in this place with Meroci, both wad- 
ing in the water to the waist. They reached 
the rocks of the coast, scaled them lightly, 
and paused for a moment to see whether 
they were pursued. 

The man with the axe, fettered by his 
heavy armor, and not being accustomed, 
any more than the interpreter, to walk on 
slippery stones, covered with sea-weed, like 
those of the island which they were forced 
to cross in order to reach the fugitives, af- 
ter many efforts, at length arrived opposite 
the quicksands, left uncovered by the fall- 
ing tide. The soldier, filled with anger 
at the sight of Albinik and his wife, who 
seemed separated from them only by a bar of 
fine, smooth sand, which the tide had left 
dry, believed it an easy matter to overtake 
them and rushed forward. At the first step 
he sank to the knees; ho made a violent ef- 
fort to extricate himself, and plunged in to 
the waist. He shouted to his companions for 
aid, but scarcely had he calleci when his 
body sank still deeper, till his head 
alone appeared above the gulf. This like- 
wise disappeared; and a moment after 
naught was seen but one of his iron gaunt- 
lets, which ho had raised to heaven as he 
sank, convulsively waving above the sands. 
Then nothing more was discerned — nothing 
but a few bubbles of water on the surface 
of the quagmire. 

The oarsmen and the interpreter, struck 
with terror, stood motionless, not daring to 
brave certain death in the effort to overtake 
the fugitives. Albinik addressed the lat- 
ter : 

“ Tell Crnsar that I mutilated mysMf to 
inspire him with confidence in my offers of 
service. It was my design to steer the fleet 
to certain destruction, and to share its fate, 
together with my wife. This was on the 
point of being accomplished. I was pilot- 
you to that channel of perdition from 
which no vessel ever yet escaped, when we 
met the Irishman, who told mo that the 
Gallic fleet had assembled yesterday, nu- 
merous and well armed, and was anchored 


THE BRASS BELL. 


95 


in this bay, two leagues from here. On 
learning this, I changed my plan, and no 
longer wished to wreck your galleys. They 
will be annihilated all the same, not by 
stratagem and treachery, but in fair fight, 
ship to ship, and Gaul to Roman. Now, 
as you are interested in to-morrow’s battle, 
mark me well. I have designedly piloted 
your galleys to shallows, where in a few 
moments they Avill be left high and dry on 
the sand, for the tide is falling. To attempt 
to land is to rush into destruction, for you 
are surrounded on all sides with quicksands, 
like those which just swallowed up the sol- 
dier. Stay on board your ships till they 
are floated off to-morrow by the rising tide, 
and to-morrow we will have battle, battle 
to the death. The Gauls will have once 
more shown that never was Breton guilty 
of treachery, and that if ho glories in the 
death of his enem^*, it is when he has killed 
him in honorable combat.” 

Albinik and Meroe, leaving the inter- 
preter-stupefied by these words, proceeded 
in haste to the town of Vannes to give the 
alarm and to warn the Gallic fleet to pre- 
pare for the morrow’s battle. On the way, 
Albinik’s wife exclaimed, “ The courage of 
my beloved husband is loftier than mine. I 
wished to see the Roman fleet destroyed by 
the rocks of the sea ; my husband wishes to 
destroy it by Gallic valor. May I be 
forever proud of being the wife of such a 
man !” 


This narrative, which your son Albinik, 
the sailor, sends to you, ray mother Mar- 
garid, and to you my father Joel, the 
brenn of the tribe of Karnak, he has writ- 
ten on the night before the battle which is to 
take place to-morrow. Detained in the har- 
bor of Vannes by the preparations on board 
his ship needful to tight the Romans at 
daybreak, your son sends this writing to the 
Gallic camp which defends the approach to 
the town by land. I know not whether my 
father and mother will blame or approve 
the conduct of Albinik and his wife Meroe, 
but this story contains the simple truth. 


CHAPTER III. 

On the eve of the battle of Vannes, Gnilhern, the 
husbandman, makes a solemn promise to his father, 
Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak. — Posiuon of 
the Gallic Army. — The Chiefof the Hundred Valleys. — 
The Bards of War. — The cavalry of the Trimarkisia. — 
The iron chain of the two Saldunes — The foot-soldier 
and the cavalryman. 

Ox the eve of the battle of Vannes, 
which, fought by land and sea, was about 
to decide the slavery or liberty of Brittany, 
and consequently the subjugation or in- 
dependence of all Gaul — on the eve of the 
battle of Vannes, in the presence of all the , 


members of our family, assembled in the 
Gallic camp, except my brother Albinik 
and his wife Meroe, who were on board the 
fleet collected in INIorbilian Bay, my father 
Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, 
said to me, his first-born, Guilhern the hus- 
bandman (who writes this narrative), 

“ To-morrow will be the day of a great 
battle, my son ; we shall fight well ; I am 
old and you are young ; the angel of death 
will doubtless summon me first to depart, 
and perchance I shall go to-morrow to live 
elsewhere with my sainted daughter Ilena. 
Now, this is what I ask of you, in the pres- 
ence of the calamities which threaten our 
country, for to-morrow the evil chance of 
war may cause the Roman to triumph ; it 
is my desire that the love of Gaul and the 
sacred memory of our fathers should not 
perish in our family, so long as our race 
shall endure. Should our children remain 
free, the love of counti-y and the respect for 
the memory of their ancestors will render 
liberty still dearer to them. Should they 
live and die slaves, these sacred memories 
will repeat to them without ceasing, from 
generation to generation, that there was 
once a time when, faithful to the gods, 
valiant in battle, independent and happy, 
the master of its soil, rendered fertile by 
hard labor, and indifferent to death, of 
which it held the secret, the Gallic race 
was dreaded by the whole world, and hos- 
pitable to the nations who extended it a 
friendly hand; and these memories, per- 
petuated from age to age, by rendering slav- 
ery more horrible to our children, will some 
day give them the strength to break their 
bonds. In order that they may be trans- 
mitted from generation to generation, I ask 
you, my son, to promise me bj Hesus to re- 
main faithful to our old Gallic customs by 
preserving the deposit which I am about 
to intrust to you, adding to it yourself, 
and making your son Sylvest swear to add 
to it in his turn, in order that the sons of 
your grandsons ma/ imitate their fathers, 
and that they may oe imitated by their pos- 
terity. Behold this deposit. The first roll 
contains the narrative of what occurred in 
our family on the anniversary of the birth- 
day of my beloved daughter Hena, which 
was also the day of her death. This other 
roll, which I received this evening at sun- 
set from my son Albinik, the sailor, con- 
tains the story of his journey to the camp 
of Caesar, through the countries burned by 
the inhabitants. This story does honor to 
Gallic courage; it does honor to your bro- 
ther Albinik and his wife Meroe, faithful, 
perhaps to excess, to that maxim of our 
fathers — never was Breton guilty of treach- 
ery. These writings I intrust to you ; you 
Will return them to me after to-morrow’s 
battle, should I survive; if not, you will 
keep them, or your brothers, should you 


96 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


fall ; and add to them the principal events of 
your life and that of your family. At your 
ueatb, you will transmit them to your son, 
that ho may transmit them in turn to his 
descendants; and so on from generation to 
generation. Do you swear by Hesus to 
obey my will V’ 

I, Guilhern the husbandman, answered, 
“ I swear to my father Joel, the brenn of 
the tribe of Karnak, to accomplish his 
wishes.” 

These wishes I piously accomplish to- 
day, long after the battle of Vannes and the 
succeeding calamities without number. The 
story of these calamities I write for you, 
my son Sylvest. And it is not with blood 
that they should be written ; no, not with 
blood, for blood may be drained dry, but 
with tears of grief, hatred, and rage, for 
their source is inexhaustible. 

I will first relate what took place on the 
day of the battle of Vannes, after my poor, 
dear brother Albinik had piloted the fleet 
to Morbiban Bay. 

This took place before my eyes. I saw 
it. Should I live hero all the lives which I 
have to live elsewhere, throughout eternity, 
the memory of this terrible day would be 
present to me, as it is at this hour, as it al- 
ways has been, and as it always will be. 

My father Joel, my mother Margarid, my 
wife Ilenory, and my two children, Sylvest 
and Siomara, as well as my brother, Mikael 
the armorer, his wife Martha, and their 
children, to say nothing of our nearest 
kinsmen, had repaired, with all of our 
tribe, to the Gallic camp. Our chariots of 
wmr, covered with linen, had served us as 
tents till the day of the battle of Vannes. 
During the night, the council, convoked by 
the Chief of the Hundred Valleys and the 
Arch Druid Taliessin, had assembled. 
IHountaineers from Ares had been sent out 
the evening before, on their indefatigable 
ponies, as scouts through the burned dis- 
tricts. They hastened back at dawn, to 
say that six leagues from Vannes they had 
seen the fires of the Homan army, which 
had encamped for the night amidst the 
ruins of the town of Morhek. The Chief 
of the Hundred Valleys supposed that 
Cassar, in order to escape the circle of de- 
struction and famine which was closing 
around his army, had journeyed by forced 
marches through the devastated country, 
and come to ofier battle to the Gauls. The 
council resolved to march to meet Caesar, 
and to await him on the heights overlook- 
ing the river of Elrik. At daybreak, after 
the Druids 'had invoked the assistance of 
the gods, our tribe marched to take its 
place in the lino of battle. 

Joel, mounted on his proud stallion, Tom 
Bras, commanded the mahrek-hadroad* * to 

* A troop composed of cavalry (mahrelc) and loot-sbU 
diera (droai). “ A certain number of Gallic cavalry,” 


which I belonged, with my brother Mikael, 
I as a cavalryman, he as a foot-soldier. 
According to military law, we were to 
fight side by side, he on foot and I on 
horseback, to aid each other mutually. In 
one of the chariots of war, armed with 
scythes and placed in the center of the 
army, with the reserve, stood my mother, 
my wife, the wife of Mikael, and our chil- 
dren. Several young lads, lightly armed, 
surrounded the chariots, and with difficulty 
held in check the great war-dogs, which, 
animated by the example of Deber Trud, 
the man-eater, howled and struggled, al- 
ready scenting battle and carnage. Among 
the youths of our tribe I remarked two, 
who, like Julyan and Armel, were sworn 
saldunes. As was often done, wishing to 
unite not only their souls, but their bodies, 
and to be the more certain of sharing the 
same fate, they had fastened themselves to- 
gether by an iron chain riveted to their 
brass belts; the symbol of the oath that 
bound them, this chain rendered them in- 
separable, living, wounded, or dead. 

On our way to our post, we saw the Chief 
of the Hundred Valleys pass, at the head 
of a part of the Trimarkisia.* He was 
mounted on a superb black horse covered 
with scarlet housings. His armor was of 
steel ; and his casque, of plated copper, as 
bright as silver, was surmounted by the 
emblem of Gaul — a gilded cock with half- 
spread wings. By the side of the chief 
rode a bard and a Druid, clad in long white 
robes striped with purple. They were un- 
armed ; but, the battle once begun, despis- 
ing danger, they placed themselves in the 
foremost rank, and encouraged the com- 
batants by their words and war-songs.f 

pays Cajsar, “ chose a like number of the most agile and 
daring foot-soldiers, each of tvhich watched over his 
cavalryman and foilowed him in b itUe. If the cavalry 
were in danger, they fell back, and the foot-soldiers ran 
to their aid ; if a wounded rider fell from his horse, the 
foot-soldier aided and defended him. If it became neces- 
sary to advance rapidly, or to make a precipitate retreat, 
exercise had rendered these foot-soldiers so agile, that, 
by clinging to the manes cf the horses, they kept up 
with the riders in their march.” 

* “ In this cavalry corps,” says Am6dee Thierry, in 
h\% History of the Gauls, “each horseman was followed 
by two squires mounted and armed, who remained in 
the rear cf the corps. When the battle opened, if the 
horseman was dismounted the squires gave him one of 
their horses ; if the horse and rider were both killed, or 
the horseman was wounded and carried off the battle- 
field by one c f the squires, the other took his place in 
the ranks. This cavalry corps was called Trimarkisia, 
from two Gallic words signifying ‘ three horses.’ ” 

t The bards, as we hhve said, formed part of the cor- 
poration of the Druids. “Art.” says Jean Keynaud, 
“ was represented alone by the bards among the Gauls, 
who had for them an unbounded attachment. They did 
not separ.ate them from the other ministers of the Druid- 
ical religion ; the celestial gift of inspiration appeared 
to them a sufficient consecration. They comprehended 
that he only is worthy of this sacred boon who emplovs 
its brilliant rays to encourage men in those efforts wh ch 
constitute the nobility and sanctity of life. ‘The 
bards,’ says Lucan, ‘ delight in celebrating the glory 
of deeds of prowess ; and by thus rendering heroes illus- 
trious, they kindle in the hearts of men a desire to imi- 
tate these heroes, with the hope of some day having 


THE DEAbS BELL; 


97 


Tlie bard saug these words as the Chief of 
the Hundred Valleys passed before us : 

“ Cajsar has ccmio against us. lie asks 
in a loud voice, ‘ Will you be slaves; are 
you ready?’ No, Ave will not be slaves; 
no, we are not ready. Gauls, children of 
the same race and united by one cause, let 
us raise our standards on the mountains 
and rush into the plain. Let us march, let 
us march against Cassar ; let us put both 
him and his army to the sword ! Onward ! 
on the Homans ! on the Romans !’ ” And all 
hearts beat violently at these songs of the 
bard. 

On passing before our tribe, at the head 
of Avhich was my father, Joel, the Chief of 
the Hundred Valleys reined up his horse, 
and said : 

“ Fi’iend Joel, when I was your guest, you 
asked my name ; I told you that I should 
call myself soldier till Gaul was freed from 
its oppressors. The hour has come to show 
ourselves faithful to the motto of our fa- 
thers, ‘ In war there is but one alternative 
for the brave, to conquer or to perish.’ 
May my devotion to our common country 
not be sterile ! May Hesus protect our 
armies! Then perhaps the Chief of the 
Hundred Valleys will have elfaced the 
stain on the name which he dares no longer 
bear.* * Courage, friend Joel, the sons of 

their praises likewise sung. These bards may be com- 
pared to Tyrtajus, who, by the power of his accents, like 
a god, adjudged the victory.’ ‘ They force their enemies 
to listen to them as well as their friends,’ says Diodorus 
Siculus; ‘often, when the opposing ranks are already 
marching on each other with swords drawn and pikes 
fixed, the bards advance between the two armies and sus- 
pend the battle, holding the combatants enchained like 
wild beasts suddenly tamed by enchantment.’ The aim 
of the bards was not to divert, by harmonious accents, 
the multitude idly assembled around them, for their 
pleasure ; animated by religion, of which they felt them- 
selves the ministers, they raised their eyes t» heaven, 
and, followed by the charmed multitude, marched for- 
ward singing in the path marked out to them by the 
gods.” “ The Gauls also bad their Pindars and their 
Tyrtaeuses,” says Latour d’Auvergne ; “ the bards or 
poets employed their genius in singing the deeds of 
great men in heroic verse, and keeping alive the love 
of glory in the hearts of the Gauls.” ” The Gauls 
think,” says Nicholas of Damascus, quoted by Strabo, 
“ that it is shameful to live subjugated, and that in war 
there is but one alternative for the brave— to conquer or 
to perish.” 

* Cmsar, in his Commentaries, and the historians after 
him, have mistaken the title of this Gallic hero for his 
own name, which they have corrupted to Vercingetorix, 
instead of Ver-cinn-cedo-righ,tho Chief of the Hundred 
Valleys. As Amideo Thierry observes, in his History of 
the Gauls, Vercingetorix was the son of Celtil, who, 
guilty of conspiring against the liberty of his city, 
had expiated his ambition and crime on the funeral-pile. 
The heir to the property of hie father, whose name he 
blushed to bear, since he is never found otherwise desig- 
nated in history than by his martial title, the young 
Gaul, who became the idol of the people, traveled ex- 
tensively. In the course of his wanderings, ho visited 
Borne and saw Cmsar, who strove to attach him to him- 
self; but the Gaul rejected the friendship of the enemy 
of his country. On returning home, he labored secretly 
among his friends to arouse the feeling of independence, 
and to raise up enemies to the Romans. When the 
time for summoning the people to arms had come, he 
appeared openly in theDruidical ceremonies, the politi- 
cal meetings, everywhere, in short, employing his elo- 
quence, fortune, credit, and, in a word, every means in 
his power, among the chiefs and the populace, to induce 
them to regain the liberty of Gaul. 


your tribe art) the bravest of the brave. I 
have seen two of your kinsineu, Julyau and 
Armel, fight after supper for amusement, 
through excess of valor. Your saiuted 
daughter, liena, the Virgin of the Lde pf 
Sena, has ofiered her blood to Hesus. 
Brave, therefore, is your tribe, friend Joel ; 
what blows will it strike to-day, when the 
salvation of Gaul is at stake 1” 

“ My tribe will do its best and strike with 
all its might, rely on it, friend, as I called 
you in my house,” answered my father. 
“We have not forgotten the song of the 
bards, which accompanied you, when you 
raised the first war-shout in Karnak forest: 
‘ Strike the Roman ; fell him to the earth ! 
Strike harder, strike harder yet, strike the 
Roman 1’ ” 

And all the tribe of Joel joined with one 
voice in the chorus of the bards, “ Strike ! 
strike the Roman.” 


CHAPTER IVw 


The chariot armed with scythes.— Margarid, Henory, 
Martha, and the other women and young girls of th« 
family of Joel, prepare for battle.— Place of refuge for 
the little children. — The war-dogs. — The bards giv* 
the signal for battle. — Battle of Vannes. — Tne Thun- 
derbolt. — The Iron Legion. — The Numidian horsemen. 
— The bards. — Guilhern the husbandman and Crnsar.- 
Death of Joel, the brennof the tribe of Karnak, and 
Mikael. — The Cretan archer and Deber Trud, the man- 
eater. — The two salduncs chained together. — Mar- 
garid, Henory and Martha. — The Gallic wives and 
maidens during the combat. — The chariot of death. 


The Chief of the Hundred Valleys de- 
parted in order to address a few words to 
each tribe. Before taking our posts in 
battle, at a distance from the chariots of 
war, in which were the women, young girls 
and children, my father, my brother and 
myself wished to assure ourselves for the 
last time that nothing was lacking for the 
defense of the chariot that bore our family. 
My mother, Margarid, as tranquil as when 
plying the distaff at our fireside, was stand- 
ing, leaning against the oaken plank 
which formed the side of the chariot, 
directing my wife Henory and Martha, the 
wife of Mikael, to give more play to the 
leather straps which fastened the handles 
of the scythes. These scythes were then 
worked like oars fixed in the gunwale of a 
boat,* to pegs fixed in the sides of the chariot. 
Several young girls and women of our 
kindred were occupied with other cares; 
some in the back of the chariot were pre- 


* “ The Gallic women,” saya Plutarch, “ spring from 
the chariots of war upon the Romans, armed with swords 
and axes, gnashing their teeth with grief and rage, and 
uttering horrible cries ; they strike alike the pursuers and 
the fugitives, the first as enemies and the last as traitors. 
Rushing into the thickest of the fight, they seize with 
their hands tho swords of the Romans, wrest from them 
their bucklers, and are wounded and cut to pieces wijh- 
out falling back, giving proof tiU death of a truly ia- 
vincible courage.” 


98 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


paring a recess by means of hides stretched 
on ropes, wherein our children would be 
sheltered from the stones and arrows 
launched by the enemy’s slingers and arch- 
ers, The cliildren were already laughing 
and playing merrily in this scarcely finished 
corner. For still greater security, Mamm’ 
l^Iargarid, watchful over everything, or- 
dered sacks filled with grain to be placed 
above this asylum. Other young girls 
were suspending on the inside of the char- 
iot knives, swords and axes, which, in the 
hour of peril, their muscular white arms 
wielded with as much ease as a distaff. 
Two of their companions, kneeling by 
Mamm’ Margarid, were opening chests of 
linen and preparing oil, balsam, salt and 
mistletoe-water, with which to dress 
wounds, after the example of the Druidesses, 
whose chariot, filled with stores for the 
succor of the wounded, was close by. 

At our approach, the children rushed 
merrily from their retreat to the front of 
the chariot, stretching out their little hands. 
Mikael, being on foot, took his two little 
girls in his arms, while my wife Ilenory, to 
•pare me the trouble of alighting from my 
horse, handed my little Sylvest and Siomara 
to me in turn from the chariot. I seated 
them both before me on the saddle, and 
kissed their fair heads with delight at the 
moment of going to battle. My father Joel 
then said to my mother : 

“ Margarid, if fate turns against us and 
the chariots are attacked by the Romans, 
do not let loose the war-dogs till the mo- 
ment of assault; the brave animals will be 
the more furious for their long waiting, 
and will not wander away.” 

“ Your advice shall be followed, Joel,” 
answered Mamm’ Margarid. “See now 
whether the scythes have sufficient play to 
allow us to work them easily.” 

“ Yes, quite sufficient,” replied my father, 
after examining part of them. Then, look- 
ing at the other side of the chariot, Joel 
•xclaimed : 

“Wife! wife! Avhat have these young 
girls been thinking of? Ah ! the heedless 
things ! See here, on this side the scythe- 
blades are turned toward the front, and on 
the other toward the back.” 

“ It was I that ordered them to be ar- 
ranged thus,” said my mother. 

“ And why are not all the scythe-blades 
turned the same wa)^ Margarid ?” 

“ Because a chariot is almost always at- 
tacked both iu front and behind; in this 
case, the two rows of scythes, acting in op. 
posite directions, are a better defense. My 
mother taught me this, and I have taught 
it to my daughters.” 

“Your mother’s judgment was bettor 
than mine, Margarid ; in this way, the 
reaping is more certain. Let the Romans 
attack the chariot, and heads and limbs will 


fall, mown down like ripe corn at harvest- 
time, Hesus grant that this human harvest 
may be abundant !” 

Then, listening, my father said to Mikael 
and me, “ Children, I hear the cymbals of 
the bards and the clarions of the trimark- 
isia. Let us rejoin our ranks. Come, Mar- 
garid, come my daughters; farewell till wo 
meet again, here or elsewhere,” 

“ Here or elsewhere, our fathers and hus- 
bands will find us pure and unsullied,” 
replied my wife Ilenory, prouder and more 
beautiful than ever. 

“Victorious or dead, you will see us 
again,” added Madalen, a young maiden of 
sixteen ; “ but slaves or dishonored, no, 
by the glorious blood of our Ilena, no, 
never !” 

“No!” exclaimed Martha, the wife of 
Mikael, pressing to her breast her two 
children, whom my brother had just re- 
placed in the chariot. 

“ These dear girls are of our race. Have 
no anxiety, Joel,” said Mamm’ Margarid, 
calm and grave as usual ; “ they will do their 
duty.” 

“ As we shall do ours. Thus Gaul will 
be freed,” replied my father. “ Thou wilt 
also do thy duty, old man-eater, old Deber 
Trud,” added the brenn, stroking the enor- 
mous head of the war-dog, whicii, iu spite of 
his chain, had risen on his hind-lect, rest- 
ing his fore-paws on the horse’s shoulders 
“ The hour of the quarry will soon come — 
a plentiful and gory quarry, Deber Trud. 
Her ! her ! at the Romans !” 

While Deber Trud and the whole pack 
seemed to respond to these words by fierce 
growls, the brenn, ray brother, and myself 
cast a last glance at our family; then iny 
father turned the head of his proud stallion, 
Tom Bras, toward the ranks of the army, 
which he quickly rejoined. I followed my 
father, while Mikael, agile and robust, 
firmly grasping my horse’s long and flow- 
ing mane, ran by my side, sometimes swing- 
ing his feet from the ground and allowing 
himself to be carried along for several 
paces by the horse at full gallop. Mikael 
and myself, like many others of our tribe, 
had accustomed ourselves in time of peace 
to the manly military exercise of the mah- 
rek-hadroad. Tiie brenn, my brother and 
myself, thus rejoined our tribe, and took our 
place in the ranks. 

The Gallic army was drawn up on the top 
of a hill, a league distant from \ aunes. On 
the east, our line of battle rested on Jlcrek 
Forest, which was occupied by cur best 
archers ; on the west we were defended by 
the steep heiglits on the slioro of Morijihau 
Bay. At the back of this bay was anchored 
our fleet, on board of which were my broth- 
er Albiuik and his wife IMeroe. O^ur ships 
were beginning to weigh their iron anchors, 
in order to fight the Roman galleys, which, 


TUE BRASS BELL. 


99 


drawn up in tlie form of a crescent, were ly- 
ing as motionless as a swan on the waters. 
Being no longer piloted by Albinik, the 
fleet of Coesar, sot afloat by the high tide, 
remained as be bad left it, for fear of fall- 
ing upon unknown shoals. 

At our feet flowed the river of Roswallan, 
which the Romans must ford in order to 
reach us. The Chief of the Hundred Val- 
leys had skillfully chosen his position; we 
had in front of us a river, behind us the 
town of V annes, on the west the sea, and on 
the east the forest of Merek, with the abat- 
ises along its skirts, which presented in- 
surmountable obstacles to the enemy’s 
cavalry, and many dangers to his infantry, 
our archers being dispersed along these 
huge intrenchments. 

The ground fronting us, on the other side 
of the river, was gently rising, and con- 
cealed from us the route by which the Ro- 
man army must comA Suddenly we saw 
the mountaineers, who had been sent out as 
scouts to apprise us of the enemy’s approach, 
appear at the top of this hill and descend it 
at full speed. They forded the river, joined 
us, and announced the van-guard of the Ro- 
man army. 

“ Friends,” said the Chief of the Hundred 
Valleys to each tribe, as he rode along the 
ranks, “ remain motionless till the Romans 
assembled on the other side of the river be- 
gin to cross it; at that moment let the sling- 
ers and archers shower their stones and 
arrows upon the enemy; then, while the 
Romans, after crossing the river, are rally- 
ing their cohorts, let our whole line move, 
leaving the reserve with the chariots of 
war, and, the foot in the center and the 
horse at the wings, rush upon them like a 
torrent from the top of this steep hill ; they 
will be unable to resist the impetuosity of 
our first shock, and will be driven back into 
the river.” 

The hill opposite ours was quickly covered 
with the numerous troops of Cmsar. In 
the van-guard marched the Vexillarii, dis- 
tinguished by the lion’s skin that covered 
their heads and shoulders; the veteran co- 
horts, renowned for their experience and 
intrepidity, such as the Thunderbolt, the 
Iron Legion, and many others, designated 
to us by the Chief of the Hundred Valleys, 
who had already fought the Romans, formed 
the reserve. \Ve saw their armor and the 
distinctive standards of the legions — an 
eagle, a wolf, a dragon, a minotaur, and 
other figures of gilt bronze, adorned with 
leaves, glittering in the sun ; and the wind 
wafted to our ears the piercing notes of 
their long clarions. Our hearts bounded at 
tho sound of this martial music. A band 
of Nuraidian horsemen, wrapped in long 
Avhito mantles, preceded the army, which 
halted for a moment. A great number of 
the Numidiaiis rode at full speed to the 


bank of the river, entered it on horseback to 
assure themselves whether it was fordable, 
and advanced toward us, despite the mis- 
siles showered on them by our slingers and 
archers. We saw more than one white 
mantle floating on the current of the river, 
and more than one riderless horse climb the 
bank and return to tho Romans. Several of 
the horsemen, however, in spite of the 
stones and arrows that were hurled at them, 
crossed the river again and again, display- 
ing so much bravery, that our archers and 
slingers ceased their missiles with com- 
mon accord, to do honor to this excess of 
valor. Courage in our enemies pleases us ; 
they are the more worthy of our steel. 
The Numidians, assured that the passage 
was fordable, hastened to carry the news to 
the Roman army. The legions at once 
formed into several deep columns, and be- 
gan to cross the river. According to the 
orders of the Chief of the HundredValleys, 
our archers and slingers recommenced their 
fire, while the Cretan archers and the sling- 
ers from the Balearic Isles, deployed on 
the opposite bank, replied to our men. 

“ My sons,” said my father, looking to- 
ward Morbihan Bay, “your brother Al- 
biuik is about to tight by sea while wo 
fight by land. Look ! our fleet has come 
up with the Roman galleys.” 

Mikael and I looked in the direction 
pointed out to us, and saw in tho distance 
our ships, with their heavy sails of tanned 
skins, rigged with iron chains, boarding 
the Roman galleys. My fixther spoke truly ; 
the battle opened at once on the sea and 
the land. From this double combat would 
ensue the independence or tho subjugation 
of Gaul. I observed something which 
seemed to me an inauspicious omen: we, 
usually so talkative and jovial in the hour 
of danger, jeering at our enemies or jesting 
at our danger, were all grave and silent, 
yet resolved to conquer or to perish. 

The signal for battle was given, the cym- 
bals of tho bard.s responded to the Roman 
chorus, and tho Chief of tho Hundred Val- 
leys, alighting from his horse, stepped a 
few paces before tho ranks, with several 
Druids and bards at his side ; then, bran- 
dishing hio sword, he rushed down the 
steep descent. The Druids and bards kept 
pace with him, striking their golden harps. 
At this signal, our whole army precipitated 
itself after them upon the Homans, who, 
having just crossed the river, were reor- 
ganizing their cohorts. 

The inahrek-hadroad of the tribes in the 
neighborhood of Karnak, under tho com- 
mand of my father, rushed with the rest of 
tho army down the side of tho hill. ]My 
brother Mikael, brandishing his sword in 
liis right hand, clung with his left to my 
horse’s mane during the rapid descent. At 
the bottom of the hill I saw tho Roman 


100 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


corps styled the Iron Legion, on account 
of its heavy armor, drawn up in tbo form 
of a wedge. As motionless as a wall of 
steel, bristling with pikes, it was prepared 
to receive our shock on the point of its 
lances. I was armed, like all our horse- 
men, with a sword at my left, an axe at 
my right, and a heavy barbed spear in my 
hand. We wore a fur cap for a casque, and a 
jacket of boars hide for a cuirass, and our 
legs were protected below our braga by 
leather leggins. Mikael was armed with 
a barbed spear and a sword, and carried a 
light shield on his left arm. 

“ Jump up behind said I to my brother, 
at the moment when our horses, over which 
we had lost all control, rushed at full speed 
on the lances of the Iron Legion. Once 
within reach, we hurled our barbed spears 
with all our might at the heads of the 
Romans. My blow descended heavily on 
the casque of a legionary, who fell back- 
ward, carrying with him the soldier in his 
rear • while my horse, by the' opening thus 
made, rushed into the thickest of the Iron 
Legion. Others imitated my example, and 
the struggle became fierce. My brother 
Mikael remained constantly by my side; 
sometimes leaping upon my horse in order 
to strike higher, sometimes making of it a 
rampart, and always fighting valiantly. 
Once I was nearly dismounted ; he protected 
me with his arm till I regained my scat in 
the saddle. The other foot-soldiers of the 
mahrek-hadroad fought in the same man- 
ner, each by the side of his horseman. 

“ Brother, you are wounded,’^ said I to 
Mikael. “ See ! your sagum is stained with 
blood.’' 

“ And you, brother,” he answered ; “ look 
at your bloody braga.” 

Indeed, in the heat of the fight, neither 
of us felt these wounds. My father, being 
the (jhief of the mahrek-hadroad, was not 
accompanied by a foot-soldier. Twice we 
met him in the fray ; despite his age, his 
still vigorous arm dealt unceasing blows, 
and his heavy battle-axe fell on the iron 
armor like a hammer on an anvil. His 
stallion, Tom Bras, fiercely bit all the 
Romans within his reach ; once ho seized 
one of them by the nape of his neck, and, 
rearing, raised him from the ground and 
shook him till the blood gushed from his 
mouth. Afterward, the tide of battle swept 
us again near our father, who was already 
wounded ; I felled one of his assailants to 
the ground and trampled him under my 
horse’s feet ; thou we were separated anew. 
We knew nothing of the other movements 
of the battle; engaged with the Iron Le- 
gion, our only thought was to drive it into 
the river. Wo pressed it hard; already 
our horws stumbled over heaps of the dead; 
and we heard not far from us the piercing 
voice of the bards, singing in the midst of 


the fray : “ Victory to Gaul ! Liberty, liber- 
ty! One more blow of the axe! One 
more effort I Strike, Gauls, strike, and 
the Roman is conquered and Gaul f.'eedl 
Liberty! liberty! Strike the Romans! 
Strike harder yet ! Strike, ye Gauls !” 
The songs of the bards and their predic- 
tions of victory redoubled our courage. 
The wrecks of the Iron Legion, Avhicli was 
almost annihilated, recrossed the river in 
disorder. We saw a Roman cohort, struck 
with panic, rush toward us, utterly routed. 
Our troops, stationed on the top of the hill, 
galloped down in pursuit of it, and, thus 
attacked in front and rear, it was cut to 
pieces. Our hands were weary with slay- 
ing, when I observed a Roman warrior, of 
middle stature, whose magnificent armor 
denoted that ho was of high rank ; ho was 
on foot, and had lost his casque in the fray. 
Ilis high, bald forehead, pale countenance, 
and terrible glances gave him a menacing 
air ; with drawn sword, he was furiously 
striking his own men, unable to arrest their 
flight. I pointed him out to Mikael, who 
had just rejoined me. 

“ Guilhern,” said ho, “if the Romans are 
defeated everywhere as they are here, avo 
are victorious. This Avarrior must be a 
general, judging from his steel armor, in- 
laid Avith gold; let us take him prisoner, ho 
Avill make a good hostage. Aid me, and 
AVO Avill have him.” 

Mikael ran forward, and fell on the Avar- 
rior just as ho Avas attempting to stop the 
fugitives. In an instant, I overtook my 
brother. After a brief struggle, he thrcAV 
the Roman to the ground. Wishing to keep 
him as a prisoner, instead of killing him, he 
placed his knee on his breast and lifted his 
axe as a sign to him to surrender. Under- 
standing his meaning, the Roman ceased to 
struggle, and raised his hand to heaven to 
call the gods to witness that he surrendered 
himself a prisoner. 

“ Carry him off the field,” said my brother. 
Mikael, who, like me, Avas very tall and ro- 
bust, while our prisoner Avas fragile and of 
middle stature, seized him in his arms, and 
lifted him from the ground; I caught him 
by the collar of a buff coat AAdiich he AA'ore 
under his armor, and, drawing him toward 
me, threw him across my saddle ; then tak- 
ing the reins between my teeth, in order to 
be able to hold the prisoner Avith one hand 
and to threaten him Avith my axe Avith the 
other, I carried him off in this manner, and, 
pressing the flanks of my horse, I galloped 
toward the reserA^e corps, in order to put my 
hostage in a place of safety, and to have my 
Avomids dressed. I had proceeded but a 
fcAV steps, Avhen I met one of our horsemen 
in pursuit of the fugitives, Avho, recognizing 
the Roman Avhom 1 had captured, cried out 
to me, “ It is Cajsar ! Strike him ; fell him 
to the earth !” I thus learned that I was 


THE BRASS BELL. 


101 


carrying off on my horse the greatest ene- 
my of Gaul ; but, far from thinking of kill- 
ing him, I was seized with stupefaction, my 
axe tell from my hand, and I threw myself 
hack, the better to contemplate this dread- 
ed Oajsar, whom I held in my power. 
AVoo to me ! woe to my country ! Caesar 
took advantage of my stupid astonishment, 
leaped from my horse, and called to his aid 
a body of Numidian cavalry, which was in 
search of him. AVheu I was conscious of 
my criminal follj^ it was too late to repair 
it.* Caesar had sprung on the horse of one 
of the Numidians, while the others sur- 
rounded me. I’urious at liaving suffered 
Caesar to escape, I defended myself to the 
last extremity. 1 received fresh wounds, 
and saw my brother Mikael killed at my 
side. This calamity Avas followed by 
others. The battle, hitherto favorable to 
our arms, turned against us. Caesar rallied 
his broken legions, a considerable number 
of fresh troops came to his aid, and we were 
driven back in disorder on our reserve 
corps, where our chariots of war, with our 
wounded, our wives and our children, were 
stationed. Hurried forward by the tide of 
battle, I came near the chariots of war, 
rejoiced, at least in defeat, to bo by my 
mother and kindred, and able to defend them 
if strength was left me, for the blood that 
flowed from my wounds enfeebled mo more 
and more. Alas ! the gods bad condemned 
me to a horrible trial. I can say, with my 
brother Albinik and his wife, both of 
whom were killed in the attack on the Ro- 
man galleys, fighting on the sea as we 
fought on the land, for the liberty of our 
unliappy country, none ever yet beheld or 
will ever more witness the terrible sight 
that met my eyes ! 

Driven back toward the chariots, fight- 
ing all the Avuy, and attacked at once by 
the Numidian cavalry, the infantry legions 
and the Cretan archers, Ave gave Avay step 
by step. Already I heard the belloAA'- 
ing of the bulls, the tinkling of the 
brass bells ^spended from their yokes, 
and the barking of the war-dogs, still 
chained around the chariots. Sparing my 
failing strength, I no longer sought to fight, 
but strove 'to reach the place Avhcro my 
family Avas in danger. Suddenly iny horse, 
which Avas already wounded, received a 
mortal thrust in the side, and fell upon me. 
My log and thigh, pierced Avith two Avounds, 
were crushed, as if in a vice, between the 
ground and the lifeless body. I was en- 
deavoring to rise, when one of our horse- 


* This event is related by Caesar himself, who says 
that, by way of bravado, one of tho Gallic liorsea.ea 
called to his cap’.or, Ccco Cmaar, “ Let Caesar go.” 
Lato'ir d’Auvergne says that Caesar probably mistook 
the Gallic word sA-o, strike, kill, for ceeo, let go; and 
that lie iirobably owed liis s.ifety to the stupefaction of 
his conqueror, who was struck with amazement at the 
tmuud of (his dreaded name. 


men, Avho was following me, stumbled 
oyer my. dying steed, and fell on it with 
his horso. Both were instantly pierced by 
the lances of the legionaries. The resist- 
ance became desperate ; corpses upon 
corpses Avero heaped upon and around me. 
More and more weakened by tho loss of 
blood, overcome by tho pain of ray limbs, 
crushed beneath tlio dead and dying, and 
incapable of moving a muscle, my con- 
sciousness abandoned me, my eyes closed, 
and Avhen, recalled to ray senses by the 
acute agony of my Avounds, I opened them 
again, this is Avhat I beheld, at first believ- 
ing myself a prey to ono of those frightful 
dreams which Ave vainly seek to escape by 
an aAvakening that eludes us. Yet it 
Avas not a dream. No, it was not a dream, 
but a horrible, horrible reality : 

T’Aveuty paces from me, I saAV the chariot 
of Avar, Avith my mother, my wife llenory, 
Martha, tho wife of Mikael, our children, 
and several young girls and women of our 
family. A number of our kinsmen and 
tribe, Avho had hastened, like me, toward 
the chariots, Avero defending them against 
the Romans. Among our friends, I recog- 
nized tho two salduues, attached together 
by an iron chain in token of their fraternal 
friendship; both young, beautiful and val- 
iant, like Armol and Julyan. With their 
clothes torn to shreds, their heads and breasts 
bare and already stained Avith blood, their 
eyes sparkling Avith rage, and a disdainful 
smile on their lips, they Avero intrepidly 
fighting Avith their barbed spears the Ro- 
man legionaries, cased in iron, and tho 
Cretan archers in their leather coats and 
leggins. Tho great Avar-dogs, which had 
doubtless just been unchaiued, sprang at 
tho throats of tho assailants, often over- 
thrOAving them by their furious dash : their 
teeth being unable to penetrate either 
casque or cuirass, they bit the faces of their 
victims, and suffered themselves to be killed 
on their bodies rather than let go their 
hold. The Cretan archers, who Avero al- 
most without defensive armor, were seized 
by tho legs, arms, body, and shoulders, and 
each bite of tho ferocious animals tore 
away a shred of bloody flesh. 

A few paces from me, I saw an archer, 
of gigantic stature, calmly choose from his 
quiver his sharpest arroAV, place it on his 
bowstring, bend tho boAV Avitb a vigorous 
arm, and take aim at one of the saldunes, 
Avho, dragged to tho earth by tho Aveight of 
his brother-in-arms Avho liad fallen dead, 
could only fight on ono knee, yet so val- 
iantly, that for some moments no one dared 
brave his barbed spear, Avhich ho SAvung 
around him, and each blow of Avhich Avas 
mortal. The Cretan arclier waited for tho 
opportune moment, and had just taken aim 
at tho saldune, Avhen I saAv old Deber Trud 
bound focAvard. Fastened to the spot by 


102 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


the lieap of dead that was crushing me, and 
unable to stir without suffering intense an- 
xguish from my wounded thigh, I summoned 
up strength enough to shout, “ At him, 
Iteber Trud, at the Roman !” 

The dog, excited by my voice, which he 
knew, sprang on the Cretan archer just as 
his arrow sped from the bow, and, whizzing 
through the air, pierced the breast of the sal- 
dune. At this new wound, the eyes of the 
youth closed, his stiffening arm dropped the 
spear, the knee upon which he supi)orted 
himself gave way, and his body sank; but, 
by a last effort,*^ he raised himself again, 
and, plucking the arrow from his breast, 
hurled it at the Roman legionaries, crying, 
Avith a strong voice and a mocking smile, 

“ Take this, cowards, Avho shelter your 
fear and skin beneath iron armor. The 
GauPs cuirass is his breast.’’* With these 
Avords, the saldune fell dead on the body of 
his brother-in-arms. 

Both Avere avenged by Debcr Trud. He 
threw doAvu and held in his enormous paws 
tlie Cretan archer, Avho uttered frightful 
cries; but the war-dog fixed his formidable 
teeth so deeply in the throat of his victim, 
that tho hot Idood spouted on my face, and 
the Cretan, though not dead, Avas unable to 
cry out. Deber Trud, feeling his prey still 
aliv'e, fell on him Avith furious groAvls, and 
tore off pieces of his flesh, which he thrcAV 
on either side. I heard the Cretan’s ribs 
crackle in the terrible fangs of the dog, 
Avho buried his jaAvs so deep in his gory 
breast, that I could see naught but his 
glaring eyes. A legionary rushed forward 
and pierced him through twice Avith his 
lance. Deber Trud did not utter a single 
groan; ho died like a good Avar-dog, with 
his monstrous head buried in the entrails of 
tho Roman.”! 

After the death of the two saldunes, the 
defenders of tho chariot fell one by one. 1 
then saw my mother, Ilenory, IMartha, and 
our young kinsAvomen, their eyes and cheeks 
inflamed, their hair disheveled, their cloth- 
ing disordered by the combat, and their 
arms and bosoms half uncovered, rush in- 
trepidly from one end of the chariot to the 
other, encouraging tho combatants by voice 
and gesture, and hurling at tho Romans, 
Avith a muscular arm, short barbed spears, 
knives, and axes. At length, the final mo- 
ment arrived ; all our kinsmen Avero slain, 
and the chariot, buried to the hubs in 
heaps of dead, Avas defended only by my 
mother, our Avives, and female relatives. 
It was about to bo attacked. There were 
with Margarid five young Avives and six 

■* Caisar says of this heroic bittic : “ During the com- 
bat, which lasted from the seventh liour of the day till 
night, not a Gaul wa» seen to turn his back.” 

t “ AVnen the Romans approached the chariots of 
war,” says I’lluy, “ they were assailed by a new enemy — 
the war-dogs, which were with great difficulty exter- 
minated by the archers.” 


youthful maidens, almost all of superb 
beauty, rendered still more brilliant by the 
excitement of battle. 

The Romans, sure of their prey for their 
debauches, and Avishing to lake it ali\e, 
consulted together before attacking tho 
chariot. I did not understand their Avords, 
but from their coarse laughter and the 
licentious glances Avhich they cast on tho 
Gallic Avomen, I, had no doubts as to the 
fate that aAvaited them. And I was there — 
crushed, helpless, breathless, filled with 
despair, terror, and impotent rage — seeing 
a few paces from me this chariot Avith my 
mother, Avife, and children ! Tho Avratli of 
Heaven had fallen on me. Like one Avho is 
unable to aAvake from a terrible dream^ I 
was condemned to see and hear everything, 
unable to move. 

An officer, of insolent and ferocious ap- 
pearance, advanced alone toward the char- 
iot, and addressed to the Avomen a few 
Avords in the Roman tongue, Avhich the 
other soldiers Avelcomed Avith insulting 
laughter. My mother, calm, pale, and ter- 
rible, seemed to advise the Avomeu around 
her not to stir. The Roman added a few 
Avords, ending Avith an obscene gesture. 
Margarid held a heavy axe in her hand ; 
she hurled it at the officer’s head with so 
true an aim that ho reeled backward and 
fell. Ills fall gave tho signal for attack ; 
the soldiers rushed forAvard to assault the 
chariot. The Gallic women fleAv to tho 
scythes which defended the chariot on 
each side, and caused the blades to reA'olve 
Avith such rapidity that, after seeing many 
of their number killed or disabled, the 
Romans, for a moment terrified by tho raA*- 
ages of these terrible Aveapons, so intrepid- 
ly handled, suspended the attack. They 
soon returned to the charge, however, and, 
making use of the long lances of tho legion- 
aries as levers, succeeded in breaking tho 
handles of the scythes Avhile remaining be- 
yond their reach. These Aveapons destroy- 
ed, a new attack Avas about to bo made, the 
issue of Avhich Avas no longer doubtful. As 
! tho last scythes fell before tho bloAvs of 
i tho soldiers, I saAV my mother speak to 
' Ilenory and to Martha, tho Avife, of Mikael. 
Both ran to the corner Avhere our children 
Avero sheltered. I shuddered, in spite of 
myself, on se nngthe fierce and determined 
air Avith Avhich my Avife and Martha rushed 
toward this retreat. iMargarid also spoko 
to tho three jmung wives Avho had no 
children, Avho, together Avith tho young 
girls, took her hands and kissed them 
piously. 

At this moment, the last scythes, which 
had been abandoned by the Gauls, fell be- 
neath tho bloAvs of the Romans. My mother 
seized a SAvord in one hand and a Avhito 
A'ail in the other, and, advancing to tho 
front of tho chariot, waved tho vail and 


THE BRASS BELL. 


103 


flung the sword away, as if to inform the 
enemy that the women wished to surrender 
themselves prisoners. This resolution sur- 
prised and terrified me. For these young 
and beautiful wmmeu to surrender was to 
submit to slavery and to tho vilest out- 
rages, more horrible than servitude and 
death. The soldiers, at first astonished at 
tho proi)Osed surrender, replied by a laugh 
of ironical consent. Margarid appeared to 
be waiting for a signal ; twice she looked 
impatiently toward tho recess where our 
children wore sheltered, and Avhero my wife 
and Martha had gone. Tho signal not 
coming, she doubtless wished to divert tho 
attention of the enemy, and waved the 
white vail anew, pointing in turn to Vannes 
and the sea. 

The soldiers, not understanding the mean- 
ing of these gestures, looked quostioningly 
at each other. jMy mother, after glancing 
again toward the recess where Ilenory and 
Martha had disappeared, exchanged a few 
words with the young women about her, 
seized a dagger, and, with the rapidity of 
lightning, stabbed, one after another, the 
three virgins who stood beside her, and 
who, half-opening their dresses, offered 
their chaste bosoms to tho blow. Mean- 
while, the other Gallic women had slain 
each other with a swift and sure hand. 
Just as they rolled to the bottom of the 
chariot, Martha, my brother's wife, issued 
proudly and calmly from the hiding-place 
of our children, with her two little girls in 
her arms. A spare pole was fastened up- 
right at the end of the chariot where Mar- 
garid was standing. With one bound, 
Martha sprang on the side of the chariot; 
and then only I remarked that she had a 
rope around ner neck. Martha passed the 
end of the rope through the ring of the 
shaft; my mother seized it and clung to it 
with all her might; Martha sprang forward 
with extended arms, and was strangled in 
the fall. Her two little girls, instead of 
falling to the ground, remained suspended 
on each side of their mothers breast, both 
strangled like her with the same rope, 
which she had passed last around her own 
neck, after fastenigg it round that of her 
children.* 

All this took place so quickly, that the 
Romans, at first struck motionless w'ith stu- 
pefaction and fear, had not time to prevent 
these heroic deaths. They had scarcely 

f 

* “The most tragical scenfes imaginable were wit- 
nessed. The Gallic women, clad in black, stood in (he 
chariots of war ; taking theiriittlc children, they stran- 
gled them with their own hams, or threw them beneath 
the wheels of 1 he chariots or irnder the feet of the hor.-es, 
and then killed themselves, bne of them hung herself 
from the polo of her ehariot/afier tying two of her chil- 
dren to her feet. In dcfaiJt of trees whereon to hang 
themselves, the men passitl a running knot round their 
necks, and fastened it to t^e horns and legs of the oxen ; 
then pricking the auimgis to make them go forward, 
they perished, trampled pnder loot or strangled.” 


recovered from their surprise, when my 
mother Margarid, seeing all her children 
dying or dead at her feet, exclaimed in a 
firm and calm voice, raising her bloody 
knife to heaven ; 

“ No, our daughters shall not he out- 
raged — no, our children shall not be slaves! 
All wo of the family of Joel, the hrenn of 
tho tribe of Karnak, who has died like his 
kinsmen for the liberty of Gaul, are going 
to meet him in another wmrld. All this 
bloodshed wall perhaps appease thee, 0 
Ilesus 1” With these wmrds, my mother 
stabbed herself with a firm hand. 

Lying all this time in front of this chariot 
of death, and not seeing my wife Ilenory 
come from the recess wdiore she must be with 
my tw'O children, and wdiere she had doubt- 
less killed herself, like her sisters, after 
putting to death my little Sylvest and 
Siomara — I was seized with giddiness ; my 
eyes closed, I felt myself dying, and I 
thanked Ilesus from the bottom of my soul 
for not leaving me hero alone, when all my 
friends had gone to live elsewhere, in un- 
known worlds. 

But, no ; it was fated that I should liv« 
here on earth, since I have survived so 
many sorrows I 


CHAPTER V. 

Slavery. — Guilhern in chains. — The slave-dealer. — Skio- 
and-Gone. — The number, name, and description under 
which Guilhern was to be sold. — His fears lest his tw» 
children, Sylvest and Siomara, might have escaped 
death in the chariot of war. — Fate of slave children. — 
Guilhern hears from the slave-dealer the story of Lord 
Trymalcion, a rich old man, who was in the habit of 
buying children. — Guilhern’s horror at these abomi- 
nations. 

After seeing my mother and the woi»- 
en of my family and tribe in the chariot 
of war kill themselves and each other, to 
escape the shame and outrage of slavery, 
the loss of blood deprived me of all con- 
sciousness, and a considerable time passed 
before I fully recovered ray senses. Wheu 
they returned, I found myself lying on a. 
heap of straw, with a great number ttf men, 
in an immense stable. At my first move- 
ment, I felt myself chained by tho leg to a 
stake fixed in the ground. I was half 
naked; they had only left mo iny shirt and 
braga, in a secret pocket of which were 
hidden the writings of my father and my 
brother Albinik, the sailor, as well as tho 
little golden sickle of my sister Ilona, the 
Virgin of the Isle of Sena. My wounds had 
been dressed, and I scarcely felt them ; I 
experienced only an extreme weakness and 
giddiness, which rendered my memory con- 
fused. I looked around me ; there were, 
perhaps, fifty wounded prisoners of us, all 
chained on their litters ; at the other end of 


1^4 


THE MYSTERIES OE THE PEOPLE. 


the stable Were several armed men, who 
did not seem to me to belong to the regular 
Roman troops, seated around a table, drink- 
ing and singing. Some of them left the 
group from time to time, and walked about 
unsteadily, as though intoxicated, with a 
short whip in their hand, composed of sev- 
eral leather thongs, leaded at the ends, 
casting mocking looks at the prisoners. By 
my side was an old man with white hair 
and beard, extremely pale and emaciated, 
with his forehead half concealed by a 
bloody bandage. He sat with his elbows 
on his knees and his face buried in his 
hands. Seeing him wounded and a prison- 
er, I thought him a Gaul ; I was not mis- 
taken. “ My good father,’’ said I, touching 
him lightly on the arm, “ where are we ?” 

The old man, lifting his gloomy and de- 
jected face, answered with an air of com- 
passion, “ This is the first time you have 
spoken for two days.” 

“ For two days !” I cried, greatly aston- 
ished, unable to believe that such a length 
of time had passed since the battle of Van- 
nes, and seeking to collect my vague memo- 
ries ; “ is it possible that I have been here 
two days ?” 

“ Yes ; and you have constantly been de- 
lirious, seeming not to know what was 
passing around you. The physician that 
dressed your wounds gave you potions to 
4rink — ” 

“Now I remember it confusedly, and also 
a journey in a wagon.” 

“ Yes, from the field of battle to this 
place. I was with you in the wagon when 
you were brought here.” 

“ And where are we ?” 

“AtVannes.” 

“ Where is our army ?” 

“ Destroyed.” 

“And our fleet ?” 

“Annihilated.”* ' 

“ Oh ! my brother and his courageous 
wife Meroe ■ are also both dead,” I thought. 
“Is Yannes, where we are, likewise in the 
p*)wer of the Romans ?” I asked the old 
man. 

“ Y''es, together with all Brittany,” he re- 
plied. 

“ Where is the Chief of the Hundred 
Talleys ?” 

“ He has taken refuge in the mountains of 
Ares, with a small body of horsemen. The 
Romans are in pursuit of him,” replied the 
old man ; then, raising his eyes to heaven, 
he exclaimed, “ May Hesus and Teutates 
protect this last defender of Gaul !” 

I had asked these questions in proportion 


“ The Gal'icfleit',” says Cajsar, “ was completely de- 
•troyed in Morbihan Bay. The defeat of the Gallic 
Tessels resulted from an extremely dangerous invention 
of the Romans, who, by means of sharp scythes with 
long handles, cut the cordage of the sails, so that they 
fsll. and the Gallic vessels, deprived of sails and 
cigging, were unable to maneuver.” 


as my memory returned to me ; but when T 
recollected the battle of the chariot of war, 
the death of my mother, my father, my 
brother Mikael, his wife and two children, 
and, lastly, the almost certain death of ray 
wife Henory and my son and daughter — 
for when I lost my consciousness I had not 
seen Henory come out of the recess in the 
back of the chariot, where I supposed that 
she had killed herself after killing our 
children — on remembering all this, in spite 
of myself I uttered a Avild shriek of despair 
on seeing myself left alone here, while all 
my family had gone to another Avorld ; then, 
to escape the light of day, I threw myself 
face downward on the straw. One of the 
half-drunken keepers was offended at my 
groans, and several sharp lashes rained on 
my shoulders, accompanied with impreca- 
tions. Forgetting grief for shame that I, 
Guilhern, the son of Joel, should be lashed 
with the whip, I sprang to my feet with 
one bound, forgetful of my weakness, and 
was about to rush on the keeper, when my 
chain stopped mo short, and made me stag- 
ger and fall on my knees. The keeper, 
beyond arm’s length, redoubled his blows, 
striking my face, breast, and back ; while 
others rushed toward me, and, throwing mo 
down, handcuffed my wrists. 

(My son, O my son ! thou for whom I 
write this, faithful to the last wishes of my 
father, never forget, and let thy sons never 
forget, this outrage — the first ever endured 
by our race. Live to avenge this outrage 
in due timej and in default of thee, let thy 
sons avenge it on the Romans !) 

Powerless to move, with my feet chained 
and my wrists handcuffed, I Avould not de- 
light my tormentors by ray impotent rage. 
I closed my eyes and lay motionless, be- 
traying neither anger nor pain, Avhile my 
keepers, incensed at my calmness, boat me 
with greater fury. Suddenly, a voice ad- 
dressed some sharp words to them in the 
Roman tongue, whereupon their blows 
ceased. I opened my eyes and saw three 
new personages, one of which was gesticu- 
lating. with ah angry air, speaking rapidly 
to the keepers and pointing at me from 
time to time. This man was short and fat, 
with an extremely red face, white hair, and 
a pointed -gray beard. He was not dressed 
in the Roman fashion, but wore a short 
brown woolen- robe, deer-skin leggins, and 
leather gaiters, and was accompanied by 
two men, one of Avhom, clad in a long black 
robe, had a grave and sinister air ; the 
other carried a box under his arm. While 
I Avas looking at these personages, the old 
man, my neighbor, who Avas chained like 
me, looked at the shbrt fat man Avith a red 
face and white hair, \vho Avas talking with 
the keepers, and said to me, Avith an air of 
anger and disgust, “'The' mangouo — the 
mangone !” . 


r- ■' 


TIIE BRASS BELL. 


105 


“AVTiat/* ansxvered I, without under- 
stnridhig him, “ what is the mangone ?” 

•• i'he man that has bought us ; it is the 
name that the Romans give to slave- 
tratlers.” 

“ What ! buy the wounded — buy the 
dying I'"' said I to the old man, with sur- 
prise. 

“ Do you not know that after the battle 
of Vannes,’' replied he, with a gloomy 
smile, “ there remained more dead than 
living, and not a Gaul Avithout a Avound ? 
On these wounded men, in default of sounder 
prey, the slave-traders who follow in the 
wake of the Roman army pounced like vul- 
tures on corpses.’^ 

I had no more doubts ; I was a slave. I 
had been bought, and would.be sold again. 
The slave-dealer, having finished his con- 
versation with the keepers, approached the 
old man and said to him in the Gallic 
tongue, but with an accent that proved his 
foreign origin, “Well, old Skin-and-bone, 
what hasdiappened to your neighbor? Has 
he come to his senses at last ? Has he 
moved or spoken ?’’ 

“ Question him yourself,’^ returned the 
old man, abruptly turning over on the 
straw ; “ he will answer you.’^ 

The slave-trader came round to my side. 
He no longer appeared angry; his naturally 
jovial countenance unbent, and he stooped 
OA’er me, resting his elboAvs on his knees, 
smiled at me, and began to talk very fast, 
putting questions which ho often answered 
himself. 

“ So you have come to your senses, my 
brave Bull ? Yes; so much the better. By 
Jupiter ! it is a good sign. Now get an 
appetite — and you will, of course — and in 
a week you will be in full feather. So 
those brutes of keepers have been whip- 
ping you ? Yes. That does not astonish 
me; they know no better. This Gallic 
wine makes them stupid. To beat you, 
when 3'ou can scarcely stand on your feet, 
to say nothing of the bad effect that sup- 
pressed anger has on the Gauls ! But you 
are no longer angry, are yhu? No? So 
much the better; it is I that should bo 
angry at those drunkards. What if the 
excitement had opened your Avounds and 
killed you ! But, bah ! those brutes think 
nothing of making mo lose twenty-five or 
thirty aurei,* which you will soon be worth 
to me, my bravo Bull ! But, for greater 
safety, I Avill take you to a place where you 
will be alone and more comfortable than 
you are here. It was occupied by a wounded 
man who died last night; a fine fellow — a 
superb felloAV ! Ah ! he was a loss ; but 
trade is not all profit. Come, follow me.” 

With these words, he unfastened my 

* Or from a hundred to a hundred and twenty-five 
dollars— the usual price of a slave. The aureus was 
worth a little less than five dollars. 


chain by means of a hidden spring. I 
wondered why the slave-trader always 
called me Bull. I should, moreover, have 
preferred the keeper^s whip to the jovial 
loquacity of this dealer in human flesh. 
Although convinced that I was not dream- 
ing, it was hard to belioA-e in the reality of 
what I saw. Unable to resist, I folloAved 
the man ; at least, I thought, I should no 
longer have before my eyes those keepers 
who had beaten me, and the sight of whom 
made my blood boil. I made an effort to 
rise, for my weakness was still great. 

The slave-dealer unfastened my chain and 
took one end of it, and as my wrists were 
still handcuffed, the man in the long black 
robe and his companion Avith the bos took 
me each by the arm and led me to the end 
of the stable, where we ascended a few steps 
and entered a little room lighted by a 
grated opening. I looked out and recog- 
nized the public square of Vannes, and in 
the distance the house where I had often 
visited my brother Albinik, the sailor, and 
his wife Meroe. The room was furnished 
with a stool, a table, and a long box filled 
Avith fresh straw, in the place, I thought, of 
that on which the other slave had died. I 
was first made to seat myself on the stool. 
The man in the black robe, Avho atus a Ro- 
man physician, then examined my wounds, 
talking meanwhile in his own tongue with 
the slave-dealer ; then taking difierent 
kinds of balsams from the box carried by 
his companion, ho applied them to my 
hurts, and departed to give his cares to the 
other slaves, after aiding the slave-dealer to 
fasten my chain to the wooden box which 
served as my bed. I remained alone with 
my master. 

“By Jupiter!” said he, with a satisfied and 
jovial air which aroused my indignation ; 
“ your wounds are healing mst, a proof of 
the purity of your blood; and with pure 
blood wounds are nothing, says the son of 
Esculapius. But noAv that you have come 
to your senses, you will ansAver my ques- 
tions — eh, brave Bull? Yes. That is 
right. Listen to me.” And taking trom 
his pocket a set of Avaxed tablets and a 
stylus, ho continued, “ I do not ask your 
name ; you haA'e no name but that which I 
have given you, and which you Avill keep 
till a ncAV OAvner gives you another. I have 
called you Bull — a proud name, isn’t it? 
Does it suit you ? So much the better.” 

“ Why do you call mo Bull ?” 

“Why do I call that tall old man, who 
was your neighbor just now', Skin-and- 
bone ? Because his bones are coming 
through his skin, Avhilo you, apart from 
your two wounds, are strong and vigorous. 
What a chest ! what a Avaist ! Avhat breadth 
of shoulders I what stalwart limbs!” And 
as he spoke, the slave-dealer rubbed his 
hands, looking at me Avith satisfaction 


106 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


and greed, and thinking already what a 
price I would bring. “ And what a stature ! 
It exceeds by more than a hand’s breadth 
that of the tallest captive in my lot ! On 
seeing you so robust, therefore, I called 
you Bull.* It is by this name that you are 
inscribed in my inventory, opposite your 
number, and that you will be sold at auction.” 

I knew that the Romans sold their pris 
oners to slave-dealers ; I knew that sla- 
very was horrible since I thought it right 
that a mother should kill her children ra- 
ther than let them live in captivity; I 
knew that the slave became a beast of bur- 
den — yes, I knew all this; nevertheless, 
while the slave-dealer spoke to me in this 
maimer, I passed my hand across my fore- 
head and touched myself to be sure that it 
was really I, Guilhern, the son of Joel, the 
brenu of the tribe of Karnak — I, of a proud 
and free race, that was treated like a bull 
destined for market. This shame — this 
life of slavery seemed to me so impossible 
to endure that I reassured myself, resolving 
to escape on the first opportunity, or to end 
my life with my own hands and rejoin my 
kindred. This thought calmed me. I 
neither hoped nor wished to learn that my 
wife and children had escaped death in the 
chariot of war; but remembering that 
I had seen neitlier Hcnory nor my little 
Sylvest and Siomara come from the recess in 
the back of the chariot, I said to the slave- 
dealer, “ Where did you buy me ?” 

“ In the place where we always make 
our purchases, my brave Bull, on the field 
of battle, after the combat.” 

“ Then it was on the battle-field of V annes 
that you bought me?” 

“Yes.” 

“ And you doubtless took me from the 
spot whore I had fallen ?” 

“ Yes, there was a great heap of you 
Gauls there, in which there was nothing 
worth picking up but you and three others, 
including that old man, your neighbor, 
Skin-and-bone, you know, whom the Cre- 
tan archers gave me in the bargain. That 
is the way with you Gauls; you let your- 
selves be butchered in such a manner (and, 
by Jupiter ! I don’t know what you gain 
by it) that, after a battle, a captive without 
wounds is not to bo had at any price. For my 
part, I have not much money at my disposal; 
BO I tall back on the badly wounded. My 
colleague, a son of Esculapius, goes over 
the battle-field with me, examines the 
wounds, and guides my choice. Do you 
know what the Avcjthy physician said to 
mo tho other day, in spite of your swoon, 
and your two wounds ? After examining 
and probing them, ‘Buy this man, my col- 
league, buy him,’ said he; ‘nothing but 

* “The slaves,” says Gwin, “ had no proper name ; 
all kinds of names, even those of animals, were given 
them indiscriminately.” 


the flesh is injured, and that is healthy ; 
it will depreciate his value but little, and 
run no risk of invalidating the sale.’* Then, 
you see, like a shrewd dealer that under- 
stands his trade, I said to* the Cretan arch- 
ers, turning you over with my foot, ‘ As 
to this great body, there is scarcely a breath 
of life in it — I do not want it in my lot.”‘t 

“ When I bought cattle at the market,” 
said I mockingly to the slave-dealer — for I 
was growing more and more tranquil, 
knowing that man is freed by death — 
“ when I bought cattle at the market, I was 
less shrewd than you are.” 

“ Oh ! I am an old dealer, and imderstand 
my trade. The Cretan archers, seeing that 
I depreciated your value, replied, ‘But 
this lance-thrust and sword-cut are nothing 
but scratches.’ ‘ Scratches, my masters,’ said 
I; ‘why thump him, kick him (and I 
thumped and kicked you lustily) ; ‘ do you 
see ; he shows no signs of life ; he is dying, 
my noble sons of Mars ; he is cold already.’ 
In fine, my brave Bull, I got you for two 
aurei.” 

“ I think myself bought cheaply ; but to 
whom will you sell me again?” 

“To tho traders from Italy and Southern 
Roman Gaul; they buy slaves from us at 
second-hand. Several of them are hero 
already.” 

“ And will they carry me far away ?” 

“ Yes, unless you should be bought by 
one of those old Roman oflScers who, being 
too great invalids to continue to fight, will 
found military colonies here, by the order 
of Caesar.” 

“ And thus rob us of our lands ?” 

“Naturally; I hope, therefore, to get for 
you twenty-five or thirty aurei at least, and 
more, if you have a good trade, such as the 
carpenter’s, mason’s, goldsmith’s, or some 
other. It is to learn this that I question 
you, so that I can write jmur calling in my 
inventory. Wo will say, therefore,” and 
the slave-dealer took up his tablets, on which 
he wrote with his stylus, “your name is 
Bull, of the Breton Gauls. I see this at a 
glance; I am a connoisseur; I never mis- 
take a Breton for a Burgundian, or a Poit- 
evin for an Auvergnat. I sold a great 
many Auvergnats last year after tho battle 
of Puy. What is your ago ?” 

“ Twentj'^-nine.” 


* A few old men who were naught but skin and bone 
(called coemptionales) were given in the bargain to 
the purchaser of a lot of slaves. ’ (See Plautus and 
Terence.) 

t According to Wallon, in the sale of slaves, as in 
that of animals, there were certain defects which invali- 
dated the sale or reduced the value. Dumbness, deaf- 
ness, near-sightedness, tertian or quartan ague, epi- 
lepsy, polypus, varicose veins, a breath indicating some 
internal malady, and sterility in women, such were 
the defects which annulled the sale. A s to moral de- 
fects, no provision was made for them. The slave-dealer, 
however, could not ascribe to the slave good qualities 
(bat he did not possess. He was required, above all, to 
confess if the slave was inclined to suicide. 


TnE BRASS BELL. 


107 


“ Age, twenty-nine, he wrote on his tab- 
lets. “ Your vocation V 

“ A husl)andman.’^ 

“ A husbandman !'’ returned the slave- 
dealer, with a crestfallen air, scratching 
his ear with the stylus, “ What ! nothing 
but a husbandman ! Have you no other 
calling 

“ I am likewise a soldier.’^ 

“Oh! a soldier — he that wears the iron 
collar never touches laud or sword. So, 
this is all,’^ said he, reading, with a sigh, 
from his tablets, “ Number 7, Bull, a Bre- 
ton Gaul, of prodigious strength and sta- 
ture ; age, twenty-nine ; an excellent hus- 
bandman. What is your character?’^ he 
added. 

“My character?” 

“Yes, what is it ? Rebellious or docile, 
open or deceitful, violent or i)oaceable, gay 
or sullen ? Buyers always' ask the charac- 
ter of the slave that they purchase, and 
though we are not obliged to answer, it is 
bad policy to deceive them. Come, 
friend Bull, what is your character ? Be 
'sincere, for your own interest. The master 
that buys YOU will bo sure to learn the truth 
in the end, and he will make you pay more 
dearly than me for a falsehood.” 

“ Then write on your tablets : The labor- 
ing bull loves servitude, delights in slavery, 
and licks the hand that strikes him.” 

“ You jest ; the Gallic race love slavery ! 
As well say that the eagle or the falcon 
loves the cage I” 

“ Then write on your tablets that, his 
strength returned, the bull, on the first op- 
portunity, will break his yoke, rip up his 
master, and flee to the woods to live there 
in freedom.” 

“ There is more truth in this j for those 
brufes of keepers told me that at the first 
blow of the whip you bounded forward 
furiously till stopped by your chain. But, 
do you see, friend Bull, if I ofiier you to 
purchasers under the dangerous character 
which you-give yourself, you will find few 
bidders. Now, as an honest trader should 
not extol his wares beyond measure, neither 
should he too much depi*eciate them. I 
will, therefore, give your character as fol- 
lowA” And he wrote : *• Character vio- 
lent and suspicious, in consequence of being 
unused to slavery, which is, as yet, quite 
new to him ; but ho can easily be tamed by 
using gentleness and severity in turn.” 

“Read it, that I may know under what 
character I am to be sold.” 

“ You foe righ't ; we must be sure that it 
will sound well from the mouth of the 
auctioneer; Number 1. Bull, a Breton 
Gaul, of prodigious strength and stature, 
aged twenty -nine; an excellent husband- 
man; of a violent and suspicious character, 
in consequence of being unused to slavery, 
which is as yet quite new to him ; but he can 


easily be tamed by using gentleness and 
severity in turn.” 

“ So this is all that remains of a proud 
and free man, whose only crime is that of 
haying defended his country against Caesar,” 
said I aloud, Avith bitterness. “ Ah ! Avhy 
did^ I not kill this Caesar, Avho, after re- 
ducing us to slavery, divides our lands 
among his soldiers, when I carried him off 
armed on my horse 1” 

“ You, brave Bull, you made a prisoner 
of the great Caesar I” said the dealer, mock- 
ingly. ^ “ It is a pity that 1 could not have 
this cried at the auction ; it would make 
you a curiosity worth owning.” 

I reproached myself for having uttered 
words seeming like regret and complaint 
in the presence of this dealer in human 
flesh. Returning to my first idea, which 
made m^J patiently endure the loquacity of 
this man, I said, “ When you picked me up 
on the field of battle, where I had fallen, 
did you see near by a chariot drawn by four 
black horses, with a Avoman and tAvo chil- 
dren hanging from a polo ?” 

“Did I see it! did 1 see it!” cried the 
slave-dealer, sighing. “Oh! Avhat excellent 
merchandise was lost there ! We counted 
in this chariot eleven woihen and young 
girls; all beautiful — oh ! so beautiful ! worth 
at least forty or fifty aurei each, but dead, 
quite dead, and of advantage to no one.” 

“ And were no Avomen or children left 
alive in this chariot ?” 

“Women? No, alas! not one, to the 
great disappointment of the Roman soldiers 
and myself; but I believe that there Avere 
two or three children who had survived the 
death which these savage Gallic Avomeu, 
as fierce as lionesses, had attempted to in- 
flict on them.” 

“ And where are they ?” I cried, think- 
ing of my son and daughter, who, perhaps, 
were among the survivors. “Where are 
they ? Answer.” 

“ I have told you, my bravo Bull, that I 
buy none but the wounded. One of my 
acquaintances bought the lot of children, 
with some others, for a few more Avere 
found alive in the other chariots. But of 
what interest is it to you whether there are 
children to be sold ?” 

“ Because I had a son and daughter in 
this chariot ?” I cried, feeling my heart 
ready to break. 

“ ilow old were they ?” 

“ The girl Avas eight and the boy nine.” 

“ And where is your Avife ?” 

“If none of the eleven AVOmen in the 
chariot was alive, my wife is dead.” 

“It is a pity, a great pity; your wife 
was fruitful, since you already had tAvo 
children; you four Avould have brought a 
good price. Oh ! what a loss !” 

I repressed an impulse of useless indig- 
nation against this infamous old man, and 


108 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


answered, “ Yes, you would have offered for 
sale the bull, his wife, and their young ones?’^ 

“ Certainly ; since Ca3sai‘ is about to dis- 
tribute 3 ’our depopulated lands among his 
numerous veterans, those who have reserved 
no prisoners for themselves, will be obliged 
to buy slaves to cultivate and re-people their 
estates, and , you are of a vigorous and rus- 
tic breed, for which reason I hope to sell 
you to good advantage.” 

“ Listen ; I would rather know that my 
sou and daughter were dead, like their 
mother, than that they were spared to live 
in slavery. Nevertheless, since some chil- 
dren are found alive in our chariots — which 
surprises me, for the Gallic woman always 
strikes with a firm and sure hand when it is 
necessary to save her race from shame — it 
may be that my son and daughter are 
among the children to be sold. How can I 
know this ?” 

“ What is the use of knowing it?” 

“ In order that I may, at least, have my 
children with me.” 

The slave-dealer hurst into a laugh, 
shrugged his shoulders, and replied, “ Did 
you not hear me ? And, by Jupiter ! don’t 
take it into your head to pla}-^ deaf, for it is 
one of tlie defects against which I must 
guarantee you. I told you that I did not 
buy or seli children.” 

“ How does that affect me ?” 

“ In this way. Out of a hundred who 
buy slaves for farm labor, not ten will be 
found silly enough to buy a man alone with 
his two children without a mother. To of- 
fer you for sale with your two little ones, 
if they wei’e living, Avould be to run the 
risk of losing half your value, by burdening 
your purchaser with two useless mouths to 
feed. Do you understand mo now, thick- 
headed fellow ? No, for you are still glar- 
ing at me with a stupid and ferocious air. 
I tell you that, had I been obliged to buy 
your two children in the same lot with 
you, or had they been thrown into the bar- 
gain, like old Skin-and-bone, my first care 
would have been to sell them without you. 
Do you understand at last ?” 

I did at last understand him, for till that 
moment I had not dreamed of such refine- 
ment of torture in slavery. The thought 
that my two children, if living, might be 
sold far from me, I knew not to whom or 
where, had not entered my mind as possible, 
so frightful did it seem. My heart swelled 
with grief, and I said almost supplicatingly 
to the dealer, such was my suffering, 
“You are deceiving me! What will bo 
done with my children ? Who would wish 
to buy these poor little creatures, useless 
mouths to feed, as you said yourself, just 
now ?” 

“ Oh ! those who deal in children find sure 
and ready customers, especially if the chil- 
dren are pretty — are yours ?” 


“ Oh ! yes,” I answered in spite of myself, 
calling to mind more vividly than ever, 
alas ! the lovely, fair faces of little Sylvest 
and Siomara, as much alike as twins, that 
I had ki.ssed for the last time a moment 
before the battle of Vannes. “Oh! yes, 
they are beautiful, like their mother.” 

“ If they are beautiful, my bravo Bull, 
have no anxiet}', they will easily find bid- 
ders; the dealers in children have good cus- 
tomers in the decrepid and palled Roman 
senators ; and, now I think of it, the rich 
and noble lord, Trymalcion, a capricious old 
amateur, is hourly expected. Ho has been 
traveling in the Roman colonies in the south 
of Gaul, and is to come here, they say, with 
his galley, Avhich is fitted up like a palace. 
He Avill doubtless wish to carry back to 
Italy some pretty specimens of Gallic brats, 
and if your children are handsome, their 
fate is certain, for Lord Trymalcion is one 
of my friend’s best customers.”* 

I had at first listened to the slave-dealer 
without comprehending his meaning ; but my 
brain soon reeled with horror at the thought 
that my children, if they had unhappily es-‘ 
caped the death which their provident 
mother had designed for them, would be 
carried to Italy, to be subjected to an in- 
famous fate. It was not anger and rage 
that I felt — no, but a grief so great and a 
fear so terrible that I fell on my knees 
upon the straw, and, stretching my suppli- 
cating hands, despite the shackles, toward 
the slave-dealer, wept, unable to utter a word. 

The dealer looked at mo with great sur- 
prise, and exclaimed, “ What is the matter, 
my brave Bull, what is the matter ?” 

“ My children,” I ejaculated, in a voice 
choked Avith sobs, “ my children, if they are 
living!” 

“ Your children ?” 

“ Yes, my children; what a fate awaits 
them if they are sold to these men !” 

“ What ! does such a fate alarm you ?” 

“ Hesus ! Hesus!” I cried in tears, “ it is 
horrible !” 

“Are you mad?” returned the slave- 
dealer. “ What is there so horrible in the 
fate that aAvaits your children ? Oh ! you 
Gauls are true barbarians ; but know that 
there is no easier and more floAvery life than 
that of the little flute-idayers and dancers, 
Avith which those rich old men amuse them- 
selves. Ah ! if you could see the little 
rogues, with their cheeks covered Avith 
enamel, their broAvs croAvned with roses, 
their floating robes, spangled with gold, 
and their costly ear-rings; andUhe little 
girls, Avith their tunics — ” 


* We dare not dwell on these monstrosities; we will 
only quote the words of the legist, Heterius : “ Immod- 
esty is it crime in the freeman, a duty in the freedman, 
and a necessity in the shave.” AVallon, in his History 
of Slavery, gives fuller details concerning the abomina- 
hie and precocious depravity enforced on children and 
.■.laves. 


TUE BRASS BELL. 


109 


I could listen no longer ; a cloud of blood 
swam before my eyes, and I sprang, furious 
and desperate, toward the wretch ; but my 
chain again suddenly arrested me, and I 
reeled and foil on the straw. I looked 
round me; there was not a stick, not a 
stone — nothing! Seized with madness, I 
fell back, and commenced biting my chain 
like a wild beast. 

“What a brute of a Gaul!” cried the 
slave-dealer, shrugging his shoulders, and 
keeping well out of ray reach. “ Here he 
roars, and rages, and gnaws his chain like 
a wolf, because ho is told that his children, 
if they are beautiful, will live in opulence, 
ease, and pleasure. Do you know — dolt 
that you are — what would become of them 
if they were ugly or deformed ? Do you 
know to whom they would be sold? I 
will tell you : to rich noblemen, curious to 
read the future in the palpitating entrails 
of children freshly slain for the experi- 
ments of diviners.”* 

“Ollesus!” I exclaimed, filled with hope 
at the thought; let it be thus with mine, in 
spite of their beauty. Oh ! give them 
death, that they may live elsewhere in their 
innocence with their chaste mother !” And 
I burst into tears. 

“Friend Bull,” said the slave-dealer, with 
an air of vexation, “ I was not mistaken in 
writing you down on ray tablets as violent 
and passionate, but I fear that you have a 
worse fault than these — I mean a tenden- 
cy to sadness. I have seen melancholy 
slaves pine away like the winter’s snow 
before the sun of spring, become as shriv- 
eled as parchment, and cause their owner 
great loss by their sickly appearance. 
Now, beware ! Scarce a fortnight re- 
mains before the auction where you are to 
be sold. It is very little in which to regain 
your flesh, and to recover a fresh and ruddy 
complexion, a smooth skin, and, in short, 
all the signs of health and vigor sought by 
amateurs anxious to possess a sound and 
robust slave. To obtain this, I shall spare 
nothing — neither nourishing food, nor care, 
nor any of the little artifices known to us, 
whereby to set off our merchandise. But 
you must second me, on your part. Now, 
if, instead of this, you continue to rave, or, 
what is worse, if you weep and grieve, that 
is, pine away and grow thin by tliinking of 
your children, instead of doing me honor 
and bringing mo profit by your good looks, 
take care, friend Bull, take care !t I am 
not a novice in my trade ; I have carried it 
on in all countries ; I have tamed men more 

* WalloD, in liis History of Slavery in Antiquity, 
says tha"-- “ masters ripped up slave children lo seek 
prognostics In their entrails.” 

t “ The tlave-dealers,” says Wallon, in his History of 
Slavery in Antiquity, “ were wont to say : ‘As timid 
as a Phrygian, as vain as a Moor, as lying as a Cretan, 
as indocile as a Sardinian, as ferocious as a Dalmatian, 
as gentle as an Ionian, &c.” 


intractable than you; I have rendered Sar- 
dinians docile and Sarmatians as gentle as 
lambs; you can, therefore, judge of my' 
skill. Take my advice, then, and do not 
try to injure me by losing your flesh. 
I am gentle and menciful ; I am averse to 
inflicting punishment, which often leaves 
marks that depreciate the value of slaves. 
Nevertheless, if you force me to it, you will 
become acquainted with the mysteries of 
the ergastulum,* designed for the refrac- 
tory. Think of this, friend Bull. It is al- 
most meal-time ; the physician says that 
you can now have substantial food; and 
chicken-broth, oatmeal, Avith roast-mutton 
gravy, good bread, and wine mixed Avith 
Avater, Avill be brought you. I shall know 
Avhether you have eaten Avith a good ap- 
petite, and in a Avay calculated to gain your 
strength, instead of losing it by shedding 
tears. Eat, therefore ; it is the only means 
of gaining ray good graces; eat heartily — 
eat all the time ; I Avill provide ; you can 
never eat enough to please me, for your 
skin is far from being filled out, and it 
must be — understand me — Avithin a fort- 
night, the time of the auction. I leave you 
with this advice, praying the gods that 
you may profit by it ; if not — if not, I pity 
you, friend Bull !” 

With these words, the slave-dealer left 
me alone, chained in the cell, the heavy 
door of which closed upon me. 


CHAPTER VI. 

The punishment. — The Ancients of the tribe of 'Vannes. 
— The Moorish executioner. — The execution. — Last 
song of the bard and the Druids. — Eve of the auction. 
— Toilette of Guilhern. — Magic philter. — Guilhern be- 
lieves himself the victim of the slave-dealer’s sorce- 
ries. — The slave-market. — The cage. — Guilhern tested 
and sold. — The captive women and the shameful In- 
sults inflicted on them. — The noble lord Trymalcion. 
— The children sold atauction — Sylvestand Siomara, 
the son and daughter of Guilhern. — The charm of 
which Guilhern believes him'elf the victim is broken 
by nameless horrors.— He suddenly calls to mind the 
old war-dog, Deber Trud, the man-eater. 

Had it not been for my uncertainty re- 
specting the fate of my children, I should 
have killed myself after the slaA’e-dealers 
departure, either by dashing out my brains 
against the Avail of my prison, or by refus- 
ing all nourishment. Many of the Gauls 
had, in this manner, escaped slavery ; but 
it Avas my duty not to die before knowing 
Avhether my children were living ; and in 
this case, also, it Avas my duty not to die 
before making every effort in my power to 
snatch them from the destiny Avith Avhicli 
they Avere threatened. I first examined my 
cell, in order to see whether, having once 
regained my strength, I had any chance of 


* A kiad of subterranean cell, in which slaves wera 
confined. 


110 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


escape. It was formed of a wall on three 
sides, and on the other of a thick partition, 
strengthened hy joists, between two of 
which was the door, carefully bolted on the 
outside ; a bar of iron was placed across 
tho window, which was too narrow to ad- 
mit of tho passage of my body. I exam- 
ined my chain and its rings, one of which 
was riveted on my leg, while the other was 
fastened to one of tho cross-bars of my 
couch, and found that it would have been 
impossible to break it, had I been in pos- 
8e.s6ion of my full vigor. I, Guilhorn, the 
son of Joel, tho brenn of the tribe of Kar- 
nak, was forced to think of stratagem, and 
to devise means of gaining the good-will of 
tho slave-dealer, nn order to obtain from 
him some information of my little Sylvest 
and Siomara. For this, it was necessary 
not to pino away, or to appear sad and ter- 
rified about tho fate of my children. I 
feared that I should be unable to succeed 
in feigning ; our Gallic race has never 
known cunning and falsehood ; it triumphs 
or it dies. 

On the same evening of tho day that I 
regained my senses and became conscious 
of my slavery, I witnessed a spectacle of 
terrible grandeur, which revived my cour- 
age ; I no longer despaired of tho safety 
and freedom of Gaul. At nightfall, I heard 
the tramp of several troops of cavalry in 
tho public square of Vannes, which I could 
see from tho narrow window of my prison. 
I looked out, and the following spectacle 
met my eyes : 

Two cohorts of Roman infantry and a 
legion of cavalry, drawn up in battle array, 
surrounded a largo empty space, in the 
midst of which was erected a wooden scaf- 
fold. On this scaffold was placed a huge 
block of wood, by tho side of which a 
Moor of gigantic stature and bronzed com- 
plexion, dressed in a jacket and trowsers of 
tanned skins, stained with dark red spots, 
with his hair confined by a scarlet band, 
and his legs and arms bare, stood with an 
axe in his hand. 

I hoard in the distance tho Roman clari- 
ons playing a mournful march. Tho sound 
drew nearer ■ one of the cohorts ranged on 
tho square opened its ranks, and tho musi- 
cians entered tho empty space, followed by 
tho legionaries, clad in iron armor. After 
this troop came tho prisoners of our army, 
bound in couples, then (and my heart began 
to beat with anguish) tiio women and chil- 
dren, also bound. More than twice a 
stone’s throw separated mo from these cap- 
tives, and at so great a distance it was 
impossible for me to distinguish their feat- 
ures, in spito of my efforts. Yet my son 
and daughter, perchance, were there. 

Tho prisoners, of all ages and sexes, 
shut in between two files of soldiers, were 
ranged at the foot of the scaffold. More 


troops then entered the square, followed by 
twenty-two other captives, walking in single 
file, but not chained; these I knew, by their 
proud and firm bearing, to bo tho chiefs 
and elders of the town and tribe of Vannes, 
all old, white-haired men. Among them, 
and walking last, I saw two Druids and a 
bard from tho college of Karnak, the first 
distinguishable by their long white robes, 
the second by his tunic striped with purple. 
Next appeared tho Roman infantry, and 
lastly, between two escorts of Numidian 
horsemen, wrapped in their long white 
mantles, Ccesar on horseback, surrounded 
by his officers. I recognized the scourge of 
Gaul by the same armor which he wore 
when, with the aid of my beloved brother 
Mikael, the armorer, I carried him off on 
ray horse. Oh ! at his sight, how I cursed 
anew my stupid astonishment, which had 
been the salvation of tho destroyer of my 
country ! 

Coesar paused some distance from tho 
scaffold, and made a sign with his right 
hand. The twenty-two prisoners, tho bard 
and two Druids going last, immediately 
mounted the scaffold with a tranq^uil step ; 
in turn they laid their white heads on tho 
block, and each of these venerated heads, 
struck off by tho axe of tho Moor, rolled to 
tho feet of the Gallic captives.* 

The bard and the Druids alone were left. 
They clasped each other in a close embrace, 
with their eyes raised to heaven, then ut- 
tered in a loud voice the words of my sister 
Ilena, the virgin of the Isle of Sena, at tho 
hour of her voluntary sacrifice on the stones 
of Karnak — those words which had been 
tho signal for the uprising of Rrittany 
against tho Romans : 

“ llesus ! Uesus ! by this blood which is 
about to flow, mercy for Gaul ! Gauls ! by 
this blood which is about to flow, victory to 
our arms !” 

Tho bard added, “ Tho Chief of tho Hun- 
dred Valleys is safe; there is still hope for 
us.” All the Gallic captives — men, women, 
and children — who witnessed tho punish- 
ment, repeated together tho last words of 
the Druids with so triumphant a shout, that 
tho sound reached ray ears. This last 
song ended, tho bard and tho two Druids 
in turn laid on the block their sacred 
heads, which rolled like the others to tho 
foot of tho scaffold. 

At that moment, all the captives shouted 
tho chorus of the bards, “ Strike the 
Roman ! fell him to tho earth ! strike 
harder yet !” in so loud and threatening 
a tone, that the legionaries, lowering their 
lances, hastily closed in around tlio cap- 
tives, unarmed and bound as they Avere, in 


* “Cassar Diought it incumbent on him to make a 
harsh example ; he jmt all the senate to death, and sold 
the rest of the prisoners at auction.”— Ctesar, Ve Bello 
Oallico, 1. iii, c. zvi. 


THE BRASS BELL. m 


a circle bristling with pikes. The voices 
^of our brethren, nevertheless, had reached 
the wounded who were imprisoned like me 
in the stable, and all, myself included, re- 
plied to the shout, “ Strike the- Roman ! 
fell him to the earth ! strike harder yet !” 

Such was the end of the war of Brittany 
and of that summons to arms by the 
Druids from the top of the sacred stones of 
Karnak forest, after the voluntary sacrifice 
of my sister Ilena — of that summons to 
arms which ended in the battle of Vannes. 
Gaul, however, though invaded on all sides, 
was yet to resist. The Chief of the Hun- 
dred Valleys, forced to abandon Brittany, 
had gone to arouse other tribes that still 
were free. 

Ilesus ! Ilesus ! it is not only the misfor- 
tunes of my beloved country that rend my 
heart, but also those of my family. Alas ! 
at every wound of the country the family 
bleeds ! 

Resigned through compulsion to my fate, 
I gradually recovered ray strength, daily 
hoping to obtain some information of my 
children from the slave-dealer. I pictured 
them to him as faithfully as possible ; and 
he always answered me that among the 
little captives that he had seen, none bore 
any resemblance to the description which I 
had given him, but that many of the slave- 
dealers were in the habit of concealing 
their choicest captives from all eyes till the 
day of the public sale. He also informed 
mo that the noble Lord Trymalcion, the 
child-buyer, whose very name gave me a 
chill of horror, had arrived at Vannes in 
his galley. 

After a fortnight’s captivity, the time of 
the sale at length came. The evening be- 
fore, tho slave-dealer entered my prison, 
bringing my supper with his own hand, 
together with a flask of old wine. The 
supper finished, which he insisted that I 
should eat in his presence, he said with his 
usual jocularity, “ Friend Bull, I am well 
pleased with you ; your skin is almost filled 
out ; you no longer fly into fits of rage, and 
if you are not over-merry, at least you arc 
not sad and tearful. We will drink this 
bottle of wine together, hoping that you 
will find a good maste^^and that I shall 
reap a handsome profit.’^’ 

“ No,” I answered, “ I will not drink.” 

“ Why not ?” 

“ Servitude makes wine bitter, and above 
all tho wine of the country wharo we were 
born.” 

Tho slave-dealer looked at me with an air 
of vexation. “ You make an ill return for my 
kindness,” said ho; “ if you will not drink, 
you can let it alone. I was going to empty 
the first cup to your new master, and the' 
next to your speedy reunion with your 
children ; I had my reasons for it.” 

“ What do you say,” I cried, full of hope 


and anguish. “ Do you know anything 
about them ?” 

“ No,” ho replied abruptly, rising as if 
to go out. “You refuse my friendly ad- 
vances — it is nothing to me ! you have sup- 
ped Avell, now sleep well.” 

“ But what do you know of my children ? 
Speak ! I entreat you, speak !” 

“ Wine alone can unloose my tongue, 
friend Bull, and I am not one of those men 
who like to drink alone. You are too 
grand to empty a cup with your master. 
Sleep well till to-morrow, the day of the 
auction.” And he took another step toward 
the door. 1 was afraid of irritating tho 
man by refusing to yield to his fancy, and, 
above all, of losing the opportunity to gain 
some intelligence of my little Sylvest and 
Siomara. 

“ Do you insist on it?” said I. “Well, I 
will drink, then, to the hope of soon seeing 
my son and daughter.” 

“You need a great deal of urging,” re- 
turned the slave-dealer, approaching within 
arm’s length, and pouring out a full cup of 
wine for me, after which ho filled another 
for himself. I afterward remembered that 
he held it a long time to his lips, without 
my being able to assure myself that the 
contents were swallowed. “ Come,” said 
he, “ let us drink to the profit I shall make 
on you.” 

“ Yes, let us drink to the hope that I may 
meet my children.” 

I emptied my cup in turn ; the wine ap- 
peared to be excellent. 

“ I have promised,” resumed the slave- 
dealer, “ and I will keep my word. Did 
you say that the chariot containing your 
family on the day of the battle of Vannes 
was drawn by four black oxen, each with 
a white spot in his forehead ?” 

“ Yes, they were all four brothers 
and exactly alike,” answered I, unable to 
stifle a sigh at the thought of this beauti- 
ful team, which had been raised in our 
meadows, and which my father and mother 
alway s admired so much. 

“ Had these oxen leather collars on their 
necks, furnished with brass bells, like this ?” 
he continued, searching his pocket, and tak- 
ing from it a brass bell, Avhich I recog- 
nized as one that had been made by my 
brother Mikael, tho armorer, and which 
bore his stamp, like everything manufactur- 
ed by him. 

“ This bell belonged on our oxen,” said I. 
“Will you give it to me? It is of no 
value.” 

“ What !” ho answered, “ do you also 
want to have bells on your neck, friend 
Bull ? You have a right to do so. Hero, 
take it; I only brought it in order to learn 
from you whether the team from which it 
came belonged to the chariot of your 
family.” 


112 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


“ Yes,” I replied, putting the brass bell 
into the pocket of my braga, as perhaps 
the only remembrance that would be left 
me of the past, “ yes, this team was ours ; 
but it seems to me that I saw one or two of 
the oxen fall in the fight.’^ 

“ You were not mistaken — two of the oxen 
were killed in the battle ■ the other two, 
though slightly wounded, are alive, and 
have been bought, as I only learned to-day, 
by a slave-dealer of my acquaintance, who 
also bought three children that were found 
in the chariot, two of whom, a little boy 
and a little girl about eight or nine years 
old, were half strangled by a cord which 
was still around their neck, but were finally 
brought to life.’' 

“ And where is this slave-dealer I 
cried, trembling. 

“ lie is at Vannes. You will see him to- 
morrow ; wo have drawn our places in the 
auction by lot, and his is next to mine. If 
the children that he has to sell are yours, 
you will be near them.” 

“ V ery near 

“ About twice the length of the prison. 
But what is the matter with you that you 
put your hands to your head ?” 

“ I do not know. It is a long time since 
I drank any wine, and that which you gave 
me has gone to my head ; for the last few 
minutes I have felt giddy.” 

“ That proves that my wine is generous, 
friend Bull,” returned the slave-dealer, with 
a peculiar smile ; then rising, he went out, 
called one of the keepers, and returned 
with a box under his arm. He then care- 
fully shut the door, and hung a piece of 
cloth before the window, in order that no 
one could look from without into the cell, 
which was lighted by a lamp. This done, 
he looked at me attentively anew, without 
uttering a word, as he opened his box, from 
which he took several vials and sponges, 
a little silver vase with a long curved tube, 
and various instruments, one of which 
seemed to have a sharp steel blade. As I 
watched his movements, I felt an indescrib- 
able stupor creeping over me, and my heavy 
eyelids closed once or twice in spite of my- 
self. I had hitherto been seated on my 
straw couch, to which I was chained, but 
my head became so heavy that I was 
obliged to lean it against the wall. 

“ Friend Bull, whatever may happen to 
you, you must not be troubled,” said the 
slave-dealer, laughing. 

“ Why, what will happen to mo ?” I re- 
plied, vainly trying to shake off my torpor. 

“ You feel a kind of drowsiness stealing 
over you in spite of yourself?” 

“ It is true.” 

“You hear and see me; but as if your 
eyes and ears were covered by a vail ?” 

“ It is true,” I murmured, for my voice 
also grew faint, and though I felt no pain, my 


life seemed ebbing away. I made a last ef- 
fort, and said, “Why am I thus affected?” 

“ Because I am going to make your toil- 
ette as a slave.” 

“ What do you mean ?” 

“ Friend Bull, I have in my possession 
certain magic philters, whereby to set off 
my merchandise. Although you are now 
in tolerably good condition, the privation 
of exercise and fresh air, the fever caused by 
your wounds, the sadness always occasioned 
by captivity, and other causes, have parched 
and tarnished your skin, and made your 
complexion sallow ; but, thanks to my phil- 
ters, to-morrow morning your skin will bo 
as soft and moist and your complexion as rud- 
dy as though you were just from the fields 
on a fine spring morning, my brave rustic ; 
this appearance will only last a day or two ; 
but I expect, by Jupiter! that to-morrow 
night you will be solcf, and after that you are 
at liberty to grow sallow and thin at your 
new master’s. I shall begin by stripping 
you naked and anointing yuur body with 
this prepared oil,” said the slave-dealer, 
uncorking one of the vials.* 

These preparations seemed so insulting 
to my dignity as a man that, in spite of the 
stupor that overpowered me more and more, 
I started up, and cried, tossing my hands 
about, “ I am not handcuffed to-day. If 
you come near me, I will strangle you.” 

“TJiat is what I foresaw, friend Bull,” 
replied the slave-dealer, calmly pouring the 
oil from the vial into a vase and moisten- 
ing a sponge therein. “ You would resist 
and rage. I might have had you bound by 
the keepers, but you would have bruised 
your limbs in the struggle — a bad sign in 
the eyes of customers, for bruises always 
denote an unruly slave. And what shrieks 
you would have raised, and how you would 
have rebelled when we came to shave your 
head in token of slavery I” 

At this last insulting threat (is not the 
loss of his hair the greatest outrage that 
can be inflicted on a Gaul ?)f I gathered up 
my remaining strength, and cried : 

“ By llitha Gawr, that Gallic saint who 
made himself a sagum of the kings’ beards 
that he had shaven, I will kill you if you 
dare to touch a single hair of my head.” 

“ Oh 1 have no uneasiness, friend Bull,” 
said the slave-dealer, showing me a sharp 
instrument, “ I shall not cut off a single one 
tf your hairs, but all of them!” 

I could no longer keep my feet ; reeling 
like a drunken man, I fell on the straw, 
while the slave-dealer burst into laughter. 


* Wallon, in his History of Slavery in Antiquity, 
describes the singular means used by slave-dealers to 
rejuvenate their slaves. 

t The Gauls attached so much importance to the length 
of their hair, that all the Northern and Western prov- 
inces were called Long-haired Gaul. See La Tour 
d’Auvergno’s Gallic Origin. 


TUE BRASS BELL. 


113 


and, braudishing his steel instrument before 
my eyes, said : 

“ Thanks to this, your head will soon be 
as bald as that of tho great Caesai', whom, 
you say, you carried oif armed on your 
horse, friend Bull. Tho magic philter 
which you drank in the Gallic wine will 
soon place you as completely at my mercy 
as a corpse.” 

lie spoko truly ; these words are the last 
that I remember. A leaden sleep fell upon 
me, and 1 became wholly unconscious of 
everything. 

This was but the prelude to a horrible 
day, rendered doubly horrible to this hour 
by the mystery in which it was enveloped • 
yes, at the hour that I write this for thee, 
my son Sylvest,in order that this sincere and 
detailed narrative, in which I narrate to thee, 
one by one, the sufferings and insults inflicted 
on our country and race, may inspire thee 
with relentless hatred toward tho Komans, 
while awaiting the day of vengeance and 
deliverance — at this hour, the mysteries of 
that horrible day of sale are impenetrable 
to me, unless they may bo explained by the 
sorceries of the slave-dealei*, many of these 
men being addicted, it is said, to magic, 
though our venerated Druids affirm that 
there is no such thing as magic in existence. 

On the day of the auction, I was aroused 
early by my master from a deep sleep. 
Kemembering what had passed the night 
before, my first thought was to raise my 
hands to my head, when I found, to my 
horror, that it had been shaved, as well as 
my beard. This deeply grieved me : but in- 
stead of flying into a rage, as I had done tho 
evening before, I only shed a few tears, as 
I looked with terror at the slave-holder. 
Yes, I wept before this man and looked at 
him with terror ! 

What change had been wrought in me 
during the night ? W as I still under tho 
influence of the philter mixed with the 
wine? No; my torpor had disappeared; 
I found myself active in body and sound in 
understanding ; but as to spirit and cour- 
age, I was enfeebled, enervated, timorous 
and — why not say it ? — cowardly ; yes, cow- 
ardly ! I, Guilhern, the son of Joel, tho 
brenn of tho tribe of Karnak, looked timid- 
ly about me ; my heart seemed ready to 
burst, and the tears filled my eyes, where 
before my brow had flushed with anger and 
shame. I had a vague consciousness of this 
transformation, duo perhaps to sorcery, and 
was astonished at it; now, when I call it to 
mind, I am still astonished at it, but not 
one of the details of that horrible day is ef- 
faced from my memory. 

The slave-dealer silently watched me, 
with a triumphant air; he had left mo 
nothiug but my braga. I remained seated 
on my couch, stripped to the waist. He 
said, “ Get up !” 

8 


I hastened to obey. lie took from his 
pocket a little steel mirror, which he handed 
me, saying, “ Look at yourself.” 

I gazed at my own face with wonder. 
Thanks to the sorcery of this man, my 
cheeks were as ruddy and my skin as 
smooth and fresh as if no frightful calami- 
ties had fallen on me and mine. Neverthe- 
less, on seeing for the first time my head 
and face closely shaved in token of servi- 
tude, I again shed tears, which I strove to 
conceal from the slave-dealer for fear of 
displeasing him. He put tho mirror into 
his pocket, and, taking from the table a 
wreath of beech-leaves,* said, “ Stoop 
down !” 

I obeyed ; my master placed the wreath 
on my head. Ho then took a piece of 
parchment on which several lines were 
written in largo Koman characters, which 
he tied round my neck in such a manner 
that it fell on my breast,t threw a long 
woolen blanket over my shoulders, opened 
the secret spring which attached my chain 
to tho end of my couch, and fastened this 
chain to an iron ring that had been riveted 
on my other ankle during my sleep, so that, 
though both legs were chained, I could 
take short steps. My hands, moreover, 
were tied behind my back. 

According to the orders of the slave- 
dealer, whom I followed with tho docil- 
ity and submissiveness of a dog toward his 
master, I laboriously descended the steps 
which led from my cell to the stable, where 
I saw lying on the straw several of the cap- 
tives, among whom I had passed the first 
night of my captivity, and whose recovery 
was probably not advanced enough to per- 
mit of their sale. Other slaves, whose 
heads had been shaved, like mine, % strat- 
agem or by force, and also with wreaths of 
leaves on their heads, labels on their 
breasts, handcufis on their wrists, and 
heavy fetters on their feet, were just begin- 
ning, under the supervision of the keepers, 
to defile through a door which opened on 
tho public square of Vanues, where tho 
auction was to bo held. 

Almost all the captives appeared gloomy, 
dejected, and submissive, like myself, and 
walked with their eyes cast down, as if 
ashamed to look at each other. Among 
tho last, I recognized two or three of our 
tribe, one of whom said in a low voice as 
he passed me, “ Guilhern, wo are shaved ; 
but hair will grow again, and nails 
likewise.” I understood that the Gaul 
wished to ‘give me to understand that the 
day of vengeance would come ; but, through 
the inconceivable cowardice that had taken 


* “ The prisoners of war who were sold as slaves,” 
says Wallou, ” wore a wreath of tho leaves of some trea 
as'a distiuctive sign.” 

t “ A writing suspended on the breast of each slave,” 
says Walloc, ” told his age, good qualities, calling, etc.” 


114 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


possession of me since the morning, I pre- 
tended to be ignorant of his meaning, so 
much did I fear the slave-dealer.* 

The spot occupied by our master for the 
auction of his slaves was not far from the 
stable where we were detained as prisoners. 
We soon reached a kind of stall, surrounded 
on three sides with planks, covered with can- 
vas and strewed with straw. On my way I 
saw other similar stalls arranged on 
the right and the left of a long space, form- 
ing a kind of street. A multitude of Roman 
officers and soldiers, buyers and sellers of 
slaves, and other persons who follow in the 
wake of armies, were walking up and down, 
staring at the prisoners chained in the stalls 
with insulting curiosity. My master had 
told me that his place in the market was 
opposite that of the dealer who had my 
children in his power. I cast my eyes 
toward the stall, but could see nothing. A 
thick linen curtain was drawn before the 
opening, whence I heard, in a few mo- 
ments, imprecations mixed with the pierc- 
ing shriefe and groans of women, and the 
exclamation in Gallic, “ Death, death, but 
not insult !•’' 

“ Those timid fools are playing the ves- 
tal, because they must be stripped in order 
to show them to bidders,” said the slave- 
dealer to me. lie soon took me to the back 
of the stall. On my way through it, I 
counted nine captives — some young lads, 
and others of my own ago ; two only were 
past maturity. Some were sitting on the 
straw with their heads bowed down, in 
order to escape the gaze of the curious; 
others were stretched face downward on the 
ground, and a few stood erect, casting sav- 
age glances on the keepers who watched 
over them with the lash in their hand and 
the sword by their side. The slave-dealer 
pointed to a great wooden cage or sort of 
huge box at the back of the tent, and said, 
“ Friend Bull, you are the pearl, the gem 
of my lot; enter this cage; the comparison 
between you and the other slaves might 
depreciate them too much; so, like a shrewd 
dealer, I shall first try to sell what is of 
least value — the small fry before the large 
fish.” 

I obeyed and entered the cage.f My 
master closed the door. I had room to 
stand erect, and an opening in the top per- 
mitted me to breathe without being seen 
from without. A bell soon rang ; it was 
the signal for the sale to begin. The shrill 


* “ The magic philters of ancient Medea and Circe 
were nothing but pharmaceutical potions, as varied as 
powerful in their actions. Many of these narcotics and 
stimulants, which sometimes threw men into a state of 
incredible mental prostration, and at others into frenzy, 
were long in use among the Romans. The slave mer- 
chants employed theth to enervate the most intractable 
of their captives .” — Philosophical Dictionary. 

t “ Slaves of high price,” says Wallon, “ were kept in 
a sort of cage, in order that the mystery might attract the 
lovers of the curious.” 


voices of the auctioneers rose on all sides, 
extolling the wares of the dealers in human 
flesh, and urging purchasers to enter the 
stalls. Several customers came to look at 
the lot of my master ; without understand- 
ing his worcis, I divined from the tones of 
his voice that he was striving to tempt 
them while the auctioneer announced the 
bids. From time to time a great tumult 
rose in the stall, mingled with the impreca- 
tions of the slave-dealer and the sound of 
the keepers’ whips, doubtless lashing some 
of my companions in captivity who refused 
to follow the new masters to whom they 
were adjudged by the auctioneer ; but these 
clamors soon ceased under the gag. At 
other times, I heard the noise of a desperate, 
although almost mute, struggle, which was 
also soon ended by the keepers. I was ter- 
rified by the resistance shown by these cap- 
tives ; I no longer comprehended the pos- 
sibility of either resistance or boldness, and 
was plunged in my cowardly inertia, when 
the door of my cage opened, and the slave- 
dealer joyfully cried, “ All are sold except 
you, my pearl, my gem ! And, by Mercury ! 
to whom I promise an offering, in reward 
for my profit to-day, I think that I have 
found for you a purchaser to my mind !” 

My master ordered me to quit the cage. 
I crossed the stall, in which no more slaves 
were to be seen, and found myself face to 
face with a. gray-haired man, with a cold, 
hard face, in a military dress. Ho was 
very lame, and leaned upon a cane in the 
form of a vine-stock, the distinguishing 
mark of the centurions in the Roman 
army. The slave-dealer, having taken from 
my shoulders the woolen blanket in which 
I had been wrapped, I remained naked to 
the waist; I was then obliged to takeoff 
my braga, while my master, proud of his 
merchandise, thus displayed my nudity be- 
fore the sight of the purchaser. Several 
curious spectators assembled to gaze at me. 
I cast down my eyes, overwhelmed with 
shame and grief, but not with anger. 

After reading the label that was sus- 
pended from my neck, the buyer examined 
me at length, responding now and then by 
approving nods to the remarks which the 
slave-dealer made in the Roman tongue 
with his usual volubility, and often inter- 
rupting him to measure with his fingers the 
breadth of my chest and the size of my 
limbs and waist. This first examination 
appeared to satisfy the centurion, for my 
master said, “ Be proud, friend Bull, your 
frame is found perfect. See,” ho added, to 
the purchaser, “ would not the Greek sculp- 
tors make this superb slave the model for 
a statue of Hercules ? My customer agrees 
with me; you must now show him that 
your strength and agility are worthy of 
your appearance.” With these words, he 
pointed to a leaden weight placed close by 


THE BRASS BELL. 


115 


for the trial, and said, untying my arms, 
‘‘ Put on your braga, then take this weight 
in both hands, raise it above your head, and 
hold it there as long as you can.” 

I was about to execute this order, with my 
stolid docility, when the centurion stooped 
down, and endeavored to lift the leaden 
weight, which he did with great difficulty, 
while the slave-dealer said : 

“ This, cunning old cripple is as sharp a 
fox as myself • he knows that many deal- 
ers have hollow weights, seeming three or 
four times heavier than they really are, 
wherewith to test the strength of their 
slaves. Come, friend Bull, show this sus- 
picious Roman that you are as vigorous as 
solidly built.” 

I had not fully regained ray strength; 
nevertheless, I took the heavy weight in 
both hands, and balanced it mr a moment 
above my head.* A vague idea passed 
through my mind of letting it fall on my 
master’s skull, and crushing him before 
me; but this instinct of my past courage 
soon vanished before my present timidity, 
and I replaced the. weight on the ground. 

The lame Roman appeared satisfied. 

“ Better and better, friend Bull,” said the 
slave-dealer. “ By Hercules ! your patron, 
never did slave do his owner more credit. 
Your force is proved ; now show your agil- 
ity. Two keepers will hold this bar a 
cubit from the ground ; leap over it back- 
ward and forward with your feet chained ; 
nothing better proves the vigor and elas- 
ticity of the limbs.” 

In spite of my recent wounds and the 
weight of my chain, I leaped several times 
back and forth over the bar, to the great 
content of the centurion. 

“ Better and better,” resumed the cen- 
turion ; “ it is proved that you are as power- 
fully built and agile as you are vigorous ; 
the inoffensive gentleness of your character 
remains to be seen. As to this last trial, I 
am certain in advance of success.” With 
these words, he again bound my hands be- 
hind my back. 

I did not at first understand the meaning 
of the slave-dealer, lie took a whip from 
the hand of the keeper, and pointing it at 
me, spoke in a whisper to the purchaser, 
who made a sign of assent, and was advanc- 
ing toward mo, when the Roman took the 
whip from his hand. 

“ The suspicious old fox is afraid that I 
shall not strike hard enough, friend Bull. 
Come, do not flinch ; for the last time, do 
mo credit, and insure my profit by showing 
that you b(far, chastisement patiently.” 

Scarcely bad ho uttered these words, 
when the cripple I’ained a shower of blows 
on my breast and shoulders. I felt the 
pain but not the shame of the outrage, and. 


bwsting into tears, fell on my knees, beg- 
ging for pardon, while the curious specta- 
tors, gathered round the entrance of the 
stall, laughed at my humiliation. The cen- 
turion, astonished at such resignation in a 
Gaul, lowered his whip and looked at the 
slave-dealer, who seemed to say, by a ges- 
ture, “ Have I deceived you ?” Then, strok- 
ing my lacerated back with his hand, as he 
would have caressed an animal with whom 
he was pleased, my master resumed : 

“ If you are a bull in strength, you are a 
lamb in gentleness; I expected this pa- 
tience from you. Now, a few questions on 
your calling, and the bargain will be con- 
cluded. The purchaser asks where you 
tilled the soil.” 

“ In the tribe of Karnak,” I replied, with 
a cowardly sigh ; “ where I and my family 
cultivated the lands of our fathers.” 

“ The slave-dealer translated my reply to 
the cripple, who appeared at once surprised 
and pleased ; he exchanged a few words 
with my master, who resumed : 

“The purchaser asks where the house 
and lands of your family were situated ?” 

“Not far from the stones of Karnak, to 
the eastwai’d, on the coast of Craigh.” 

The Roman appeared too well satisfied 
with this reply to believe it, for the slave- 
dealer resumed : 

“ This cripple is suspicious above every- 
thing. To be certain that I do not deceive 
him, and that I translate your words faith- 
fully, he asks you to draw on the sand the 
position of the house and lands of your 
family with respect to the stones of Kar- 
nak and the sea. Unluckily, I do not know 
what interest lie has in knowing this, or I 
would make him pay dearly for it. But 
obey his orders.” 

My hands were again unbound ; I took 
the whip of one of the keepers, and drew 
on the sand with the handle, under the at- 
tentive gaze of the centurion, the position of 
the Karnak stones and the coast of Craigh : 
and afterward the sight of our house and 
fields to the east of Karnak. The cripple 
clapped his hands in token of joy, and draw- 
ing a long purse from his pocket, took from 
it a number of gold pieces, which he of- 
fered to the slave-dealer. After a lengthy 
discussion on the price of my body, the sell- 
er and the buyer at length agreed on a sum. 

“ By Mercury !” said the slave-dealer to 
me, “I have sold you for thirty-eight aurei, 
half down, and the other half at the end of 
the sale, when the Roman takes you away. 
Was I wrong in calling you the gem of my 
lot!” He added, after exchanging a few 
words with the centurion, “ Your new mas- 
ter does not think that you are chained se- 
curely enough, and, after paying such a 
price for a slave, I can well understand his 
anxiety. lie wishes to fetter you besides ; 
he will take you away in a wagon.” 


» “ The slave,” says Wallon, “was obliged to lift 
weights, run and leap, to prove hia vigor and agility.” 


liC 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOFLE; 


In addition to my chain, two heavy iron 
fetters were fastened to my feet, which 
would have prevented any other movement 
than leaping, with my feet joined together, 
had I been able to leap with so heavy a 
load; my handcuffs were carefully inspect- 
ed, and I was placed in a corner of the 
stall, while the slave-dealer counted his 
gold again and again. At that moment, the 
curtain which concealed the entrance to the 
opposite stall was raised, and the following 
spectacle met my eyes : 

On one side, three beautiful young women 
— the same doubtless whose shrieks and 
groans I had heard when the keepers had 
stripped them of their clothing in order to 
expose them to the gaze of purchasers — 
were seated, half naked, with their bare feet, 
coated with chalk, passed through the rings 
of a long iron bar.* They clung together, 
witli their arms interlaced in such a man- 
ner that two among them, still overpowered 
with shame, hid their faces in the bosom of 
the third. The latter, pale and gloomy, with 
her long black hair flowing loosely over 
her shoulders, bowed her head on her un- 
covered and lacerated breast — lacerated 
doubtless during the struggle of these un- 
fortunates with the keepers. At a little 
distance from them, two children, three or 
four years old, fastened only by a slender 
cord passed around their waist and tied to 
a stake, were laughing and playing on the 
straw with the thoughtlessness of their 
age. I thought, and I feel certain that I 
was not mistaken, that these children be- 
longed to none of the three women. 

In another corner of the stall, I saw a ma- 
tron of a stature equal to that of my mother 
Margarid, with her wrists handcuffed and 
her feet shackled ; she stood erect, leaning 
against a post to which she was chained 
by the waist, as motionless as a statue, with 
her gray hair disheveled, her eyes fixed, 
and her face livid and distorted, bursting 
from time to time into a fit of threatening and 
maniacal laughter. Lastl}’’, at the back of 
the stall, I perceived a cage similar to that 
in which I had been confined ; this cage, 
according to the information given me by 
the slave-dealer, must hold my two chil- 
dren. My eyes filled with tears. Never- 
theless, in spite of the weakness which still 
chilled and enervated me, at the thought 
that my children were there, close by me, 
I felt a slight warmth mount from my heart 
to my brain, the first symptom of the awak- 
ening of my energy. 

Now, my son Sylvest, thou for whom I 
write this, read slowly the following narra- 
tive. Yes, read it slowly, in order that 
each word of the tale may forever inspire 
thy soul with an implacable hatred toward 


* “ The feet of the women and children,” says Wal- 
Ion, “ were coated with white chalk.” 


the Romans, a hatred which will break forth 
with fury on the day of vengeance. Read 
this, my son, and thou wilt understand why 
thy mother, after giving life to thy sister 
and thyself, and lavishing on you the ten- 
derest cares, could not better prove her ma- 
ternal love for you both than by attempt- 
ing to kill you, in order to take you with 
her to live in another world, with her and 
all our kindred. Alas ! you survived her 
noble attempt. 

Behold, therefore, my son, what trans- 
pired. 

I had my eyes fixed on the cage where I 
supposed you and j^our sister to be con- 
fined, when I saw a magnificently dressed 
old man enter the stall; it was the rich 
and noble Lord Trymalcion, as debilitated 
by profligacy as by age; his cold and lus- 
treless eyes, utterly devoid of animation, 
seemed like those of a corpse, and his 
hideous, wrinkled face was covered with a 
thick coat of paint. He wore a light curled 
peruke, gold ear-rings set with precious 
stones, and a large bouquet at the girdle of 
his long robe, which his cloak of red plush 
half disclosed. He dragged himself along 
painfully, supported on either side by two 
young slaves fifteen or sixteen years old, 
dressed splendidly, but in so strange and 
effeminate a fashion that I knew not wheth- 
er to take them for boys or girls. Two 
other older slaves followed — one carrying 
his master’s furred pelisse, and the other a 
gold cup. 

The owner of the stall eagenly hastened 
to meet Trymalcion, and addressed him re- 
spectfully, then brought a stool upon which 
the old man seated himself. The seat hav- 
ing no back, one of the young slaves im- 
mediately took his stand behind his master, 
in order to serve him as a prop, while the 
other reclined on the ground at a sign from 
his master, and, raising his feet from the 
ground, wrapped them in his robe and held 
them against his breast in order to warm 
them.* 

The old man, having thus arranged him- 
self comfortably, addressed a few words 
to the slave-dealer, who pointed to the 
three Gallic women. Lord Trymalcion, 
(read on, my son, let not thy heart falter at 
these horrors and those still more mon- 
strous; they will add to the terrible leaven 
of hatred which must ferment from ago to 
age in our race till tlie coming of the day 
of justice and deliverance) — ^the rich and 
noble lord, at the sight of these beautiful 
women pointed out to him by the slave- 
dealer, turned toward the Gallic captives 
and spat on them in token of his sovereign 
contempt. 


* For corroborution cf tliis description of Roman 
manners, see Fetronius, Tacitus, Martiul, J uvenal, and 
other writers Of antiquity. 


THE BRASS BELL. 


117 


At this outrage, the slaves of the old man, 
and the Romans collected around the en- 
trance of the stall, shouted with laughter. 
The slave-dealer then pointed out the 
children playing on the stand to the no- 
tice of Lord Trymalcion, who shrugged 
his shoulders and uttered some horrible 
words — I know not what, but they must 
have been horrible, for the Romans re- 
doubled their mirth. 

The slave-dealer, hoping at last to satisfy 
this difficult customer, opened the cage and 
led from it three children, enveloped in 
long white vails, which concealed their 
faces; two of these children were of the 
size of my son and daughter, the third was 
smaller. The latter was at first unvailod 
to the eyes of the old man. I recognized 
the daughter of one of our kinswomen, 
whose husband had been slain in defending 
the chariot of war, and who had afterward 
killed herself with the other women of our 
family, doubtless forgetting at this excit- 
ing moment to put her child to death. The 
little girl was pvmy and ugly^ Lord Try- 
malcion, after hastily glancing at her, 
made an impatient gesture as if angry that 
such an unworthy object should be offered 
to his eyes. She was led back to the cage 
hy a keeper. The other two children re- 
mained standing there, still trailed. 

!My son, I saw this from the slave-deal- 
er’s stall, with my handcuffed wrists 
hound behind my back with a double iron 
chain, my legs chained together, and both 
feet shackled with fetters of prodigious 
weight. I still felt myself under the do- 
minion of sorcery ; j-et my blood, hitherto 
congealed in my veins, began to circulate 
more and more rapidly — a vague tremor ran 
through my limbs from time to time — the 
awakening was approaching. I was not 
the only one that shuddered; the three 
young Gallic women and the matron, for- 
getting their despair, felt their womanly 
and motherly hearts filled with painful 
horror at the fate of these children about to 
become the prey of this horrible old man. 
Half naked as they were, they no longer 
thought of hiding themselves from the 
licentious gaze of the spectators without, 
but fixed their eyes with a sort of maternal 
terror on the two vailed children, while 
the matron, bound to a stake, her eyes 
flashing and her teeth gnashing with im- 
potent rage, raised her chained hands 
to heaven, as if to invoke the punishment 
of the gods on these abominations. 

At a sign from Lord Trymalcion, the 
vails fell, and I recognized you both — thou, 
my son Sylvest, and thy sister Siomara. 
Road on, my son, read on, and wait. 

You were both pale and emaciated; you 
trembled with fear, and 3 -our tear-stain- 
ed faces told of suffering. The long fair 
hair of my little girl flowed over her 


shoulders; neither of you dared to lift your 
eyes, but both stood hand and hand, cling- 
ing close together. In spite of the terror 
depicted on her face, I saw my daughter in 
her rare, childish beauty — accursed beauty, 
for at the sight, the dull eyes of Lord Try- 
malcion kindled and sparkled like burning 
coals in his wrinkled countenance, covered 
with paint. He started up and extended 
his flesbless hands toward my child, while 
a frightful smile disclosed his yellow teeth. 
Siomara drew back in terror, and clung to 
your neck. The slave-dealer soon separat- 
ed 3 'ou, and brought her to the old man ; the 
latter, pushing away the slave that was re- 
clining at his feet, took her in his lap, and 
easily mastered the efforts which she made 
to escape, shrieking loudly all the while ; 
then broke the strings which fastened her 
little dress, and stripped her half naked to 
look at her neck and shoulders, while the 
slave-dealer held you, my son. 

And 1, the father of the two victims, I, 
who had witnessed all this, loaded with 
chains, what did I do ? Read on, my son, , 
and wait. 

At this crime of Lord Tr^-malcion — the 
most execrable of crimes, to outrage the 
purity of a child ! — the three young women 
and the matron made a desperate but vain 
effort to break their chains, and began to 
utter imprecations and groans. Lord Try- 
malcion peaceably finished his atrocious 
examination, and addressed a feW words to 
the slave-dealer, whereupon a keeper read- 
justed the dress of my child, who was more 
dead than alive, enveloped her in a long 
vail, which he bound around her, and, tak- 
ing the light burden in his arms, stood 
ready to follow the old man, who was emp- 
tying the gold from his purse with which 
to pay her master. At this moment of su- 
preme despair, you and your sister — poor 
children, bewildered with terror — cried out 
as if you thought that j-ou could still be 
heard and succored, “ Mother ! Father !” 

Until that moment, my son, I had wit- 
nessed this scene breathless, half mad 
with grief and rage, and struggling with 
all the power of a father’s heart against 
the sorcery of the slave-dealer, over which 
I was triumphing l)y degrees ; but at these 
cries, “ Mother ! Father !” . the chain was 
broken. I recovered all my reason and 
courage ; the sight of you gave me such a 
shock, and inspired me with such fury, that, 
unable to break my irons, I rose, and, with 
my hands still chained behind my back 
and my legs still loaded with heavy shack- 
les, I sprang from the tent and in two 
bounds, with my feet close together, fell 
like a thunderbolt on the noble Lord Try- 
malcion. He gave way before the sliock 
and rolled under me ; then, for want of 
power to strangle him with my fettered 
hands, I seized his face .with my teeth, 


118 


THE MYSTEEIE3 OF THE PEOPLE. 


wherever I could — in the cheek, I believe, 
near the throat — and bitit ferociously. The 
slave-dealers and the keepers fell upon us, 
but bearing with all my weight on the 
hideous old man, who howled in agony, I 
did not let go my hold. The blood of the 
monster filled my mouth; I was lashed, 
beaten, and pelted with stones, but I did 
not quit my prey any more than our old 
war-dog, Deber Trud,the man-eater, quitted 
his. No, like him, I did not let go my hold 
till I had bitten a mouthful of flesh from 
the cheek of the noble Lord Trymalcion — a 
bloody mouthful which I spat in his hideous, 
livid and agonizing face, as he had spat on 
the Gallic captives. 

“ Father ! father \" you cried meanwhile ; 
then, wishing to approach you, I rose terri- 
fied — ^yes, terrified — for a captive loaded 
with chains can forget but for a moment the 
terror of liis position. “ Father ! father \” 
you cried again, stretching your little arms 
toward me, in spite of the keeper who was 
holding you back. I bounded toward you ; 
but the slave-dealer, springing on the cage 
in which you had been imprisoned, sudden- 
ly threw a blanket over my head ; at the 
same time I was seized by the legs, thrown 
down, and bound witli innumerable chains. 
The blanket, which had been thrown over 
my head and shoulders, was tied around 
my neck, after a hole had been made in it by 
my tormentors, which unhappily permitted 
me to breathe, for I hoped to be smothered. 

I felt myself carried to our stall, where 
I was thrown on the straw, unable to move 
a muscle. Some time after, I heard the 
centurion, my new master, warmly disput- 
ing with the slave-dealer from whom ho 
had bought me, and the one who had sold 
Siomara to Lord Trymalcion ; then all left 
the stall, and there was silence around me. 
Presently, my old master returned, and, ap- 
proaching the place where I lay, kicked 
me furiously ; then, snatching the covering 
from my face, he cried, in a voice trembling 
with rage ; 

“ Wretch ! do you know what that mouth- 
ful of flesh has cost me that you bit from 
the face of the noble Lord Trymalcion ? 
Say, do you know, you wild beast ? It has 
cost me twenty aurei — more than half of 
what I received for you; for I am responsi- 
ble for your misdeeds, villain, as long as 
you are in my stall.* So that it is I who 
have made a present of your daughter to 
the old man. She was sold to him for 
twenty aurei, which I have paid ; he ex- 
acted this compensation, and even then I 
came off cheaply 

“ This monster is not dead ! Hesus! he is 
not dead, and my daughter is still alive V’ I 
cried, in despair. 


* The master was responsible for the acts of his slave 
as a man is responsible for those of his dog. (See Wal- 
lon’s History of Slavery in Antiquity.) 


“ Your daughter, gallows-bird ! your 
daughter is in the hands of Lord Trymal- 
cion, and ho will take vengeance on her for 
your outrage. He is rejoicing at the pros- 
pect, for he sometimes has ferocious ca- 
prices, and he is rich enough to gratify 
them.^' 

I could only reply to these words by my 
groans. 

“ And that is not all, infamous wretch ! 
I have lost the confidence of the centurion 
to whom I had sold you. He reproaches 
me for having basely deceived him, and 
having sold him, instead of a lamb, a tiger 
that greedily devours the flesh of rich 
lords. He wanted to sell you again on the 
spot — to sell you, as if any one would con- 
sent to buy you, after such an outrage ! As 
well buy a mad beast ! Luckily for me, I 
had received a deposit in the presence of 
witnesses ; ferocity of character does not 
annul the sale, and the centurion must be- 
ware of you. He will beware of you, but 
he will make you pay dearly for your vil- 
lainy. Oh ! you know not the life that 
awaits you in his ergastulum — ^you know 
it not.‘^ 

“ And what of my son I interrupted, 
well knowing that the slave-dealer would 
answer me through cruelty. “ Is he also 
sold ? and to whom 

“Sold! and who would want him? Sold! 
Say rather given away for nothing, for you 
bring misfortune to every one, double-dyed 
traitor ! Did not your frenzy and the cries 
of this abortion tell every one that he was 
of your ferocious race? No one would bid 
a penny for him. Who would buy such a 
wolf-cub ? I was going to tell you about 
him, to rejoice your fatherly heart. Know, 
then, that his master has given him into 
the bargain to the purchaser of the gray- 
haired old woman, who is just fit to turn 
a mill-wheel.^^ 

“ Who is this purchaser V’ I asked* 

“ What will he do with my son 

“ The purchaser 1 It is your master, the 
centurion.” 

“ Ilesus !” I cried, scarcely able to believe 
my own ears. “ Ilesus, thou art good and 
merciful ! I shall at least have my son 
near me.” 

“ Your son near you ! Are you as stupid 
as you are villainous ? Ah ! you think 
that it is for your fatherly pleasure that your 
master has burdened himself with this 
wolf-cub ? Do you know what he said to 
me ? ‘ I have but one means of taming the 
wild beast that you have sold me, base 
knave !’ You see the abuse you have 
brought on mo, wretch! ‘This madman, 
perchance, loves his oifspring. I will take 
his son and put him in a cage, where he 
shall answer to me for the docility of his 
father. At the first and the most trifling 
fault of this wolf, he shall see the tortures., 


(hi 


THE BRASS BELL. 


119 


which I will make his cub suJcr fc'.Tore his 
eyes !’ ” 

I paid no more attention to the slave- 
dealer's words. I was certain, at least, ot 
seeing you, or of knowing that you were 
near me, my child ; this would aid me to 
endure the norrible anguish caused me by 
the fate of my poor little Siomara, who, 
two days after her sale, quitted V annes on 
board the galley of Lord Trymalcion, on 
her way to Italy. 

My father Guilhern was unable to fmish 


this narrative. Death — and what a death ! 
— overtook him on the very day after he 
had written the last words ! 

This story of the sufferings of our race, 
I, Sylvest, shall continue, in obedience to 
my father Guilhern, as he had done in obe- 
dience to the wishes of his father, Joel, the 
brenn of the tribe of Karnak. 

Pesus was merciful to thee, O my fa- 
ther! Thou didst not live to know the 
fate of thy daughter Siomara ; and it is 
for me, thyson, to recount the life of my 
sister. 










« 


THE IROH OOLEi^R; 

OK, 

<fausitraa iowaica. 

B.C. 40_ A.JJD. lO. 


PREFATORY NOTE. 

Dear Readers ; 

Permit me to say a few words respecting 
the following tale, the “ Iron Collar.’’ In 
“ Hen A, THE Virgin of the Isle op Sena,” 
I have endeavored to depict to you, as faith- 
fully and historically as possible, a ple- 
beian Gallic family, free and happy, living 
in comfort by the labor of its hands • and 
to make known to you its manners and cus- 
toms, industry, laws, religious opinions, and, 
so to speak, typical character, which it has 
rstained to this day. 

Then foreign invasion came, and with it 
war — war without mercy or pity, such as 
was waged by Csesar and the Romans — 
iniquitous, bloody, rs^acious and infamous 
war, like all wars of conquest, ending in 
the subjugation of an antique country and 
the death or slavery of its children. To 
this impious war, the Gauls responded by 
a holy war — for the war is always holy that 
is waged by a people in resistance to op- 
pression. You have seen with what loyal 
grandeur and sublime heroism our fathers 
defended their nationality, their liberty, 
their soil, their firesides, their families and 
their gods. Despite these prodigies of de- 
votion and valor, the Roman arms tri- 
umphed j and our Gallic family, like many 
others, was annihilated by battle or by 
voluntary death, the sole refuge from a 
frightful subjugation. Of the descendants 
of Joel, the brenn, there remained but 
Guilhern and his two children, Sylvest and 
Siomara, both reduced to slavery and sold. 

The following tale, the Iron Collar, 
is especially designed to show you what 
our fathers endured in slavery, together 
with the depravity and ferocity of the 
rich and powerful Romans, established in 
Gaul by the conquest — a depravity and 
ferocity of which the slaves employed 
in the fields, the manufactories and the 
cities, were the victims. I have, though 
with regret, drawn some pictures which, 
although greatly softened, will at least 
give you an idea of the nameless hor- 
rors familiar to the men and women of 
the noble and opulent race that held our 
fathers and mothers under the double yoke 
of conquest and slavery. These pictures. 


horrible as they may be, are indispensable 
both to the knowledge of the times which 
they depict, and, above all, to the under- 
standing of subsequent epochs. I will ex- 
plain my meaning. 

The period in which the scene of the fol- 
lowing tale is laid preceded the Christian 
era but a few years ; and it is impossible to 
comprehend the sudden and prodigious sen- 
sation produced by the word of Christ, that 
subHme paraphrase of the eternal moral 
truths written for centuries on every page of 
the Bible, and in the sacred books of India 
and China — it is impossible, I say, to com- 
prehend the omnipotence of the divine appeal 
of Jesus, the poor carpenter of Nazareth, to 
the oppressed and sufiering, without com- 
prehending that the frightful excesses of 
the Roman aristocracy, then the sovereigns 
of the world, had reached a height hitherto 
unknown to humanity, and filled up the 
measure of social iniquities and tortures, 
thus increasing the ferment of the rebellion 
that was destined to break out at the words 
of Christ,* wherever there were oppressors 
and oppressed. 

We shall therefore relate the story of 
this epoch, the monstrous pressure of which 
caused the divine Christian emancipation 
suddenly to gush forth, so to speak, from 
the depths of the abyss where the people, 
despoiled, subjugated, and tortured by re- 
lentless masters, were groaning in misery; 
and in this story, as in all the others, dear 
readers, you will see, by reading the notes, 
that, however strange and exaggerated the 
facts may seem to you, I have always kept 
within the most rigorous bounds of histone 
truth. 

Eugene Sue. 


CHAPTER I. 

Secret society of the Children of the Mistletoe. In- 
itiation of Sylvest. — Oath. — Plan of insurrection 
among the slaves.— Song of the bards on the death 
of the Chief of the Hundred Valleys. 

At the moment of writing this in obe- 
dience to the last wishes of my father Guil- 

* The Christian revolution, apart from its social char- 
acter, was eminently a social revolution. *■ Behold, 
therefore, the true cause of the condemnation of Vllhnst, 


» 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


121 


heru, the son of Joel, the brenn of the tribe 
of Karnak, I, Sylvest, have attained my 
seventy-second year. 

My -wife, Loyse, the Parisian, died a 
slave. 

My son, Pearon, died a slave. 

Ilis wife, Foeny, died a slave. 

No one is left me, therefore, but thou, my 
grandson, Fergan, a slave like thy old 
grandfather, who, nevertheless, was born 
free — free, like thy ancestors. 

Ours is an uncertain life, dependent on 
the caprice or barbarity of our masters. I 
have often asked myself how I have been 
able to survive so many sufferings, sorrows 
and perils. This life might have been 
taken from me at any day ; I have not 
waited, therefore, till this advanced age to 
obey the orders of my father Guilhern, but, 
in the course of years, have written a few 
pages now and then, designed for my son, 
which thou wilt read, my grandson. 

Of these narratives the following is the 
most ancient; the facts which it relates 
took place when I was twenty-seven years 
old, in the reign of the Emperor Octavius 
Augustus, sixteen years after Caesar, the 
scourge of Gaul, had been punished by the 
dagger of Brutus, as a perjurer and traitor 
to the Roman Republic. Octavius Augustus 
ruled over Italy, and our country Gaul, 
which was completely subjugated, after 
heroic struggles. 

The town of Orange, one of the richest 
towns of Provencal or Narbonnese Gaul, of 
which the Romans had taken possession, 
and where they had settled more than two 
hundred years before, had become com- 
pletely Roman in its luxury, manners and 
customs, and depravity. In these countries, 
less rugged than our Brittany, the climate is 
as mild as that of Italy ; spring and sum- 
mer are perpetual ; and, as in Italy, the 
lemon, the orange, the pomegranate, the fig 
and the red laurel twine round the marble 
columns built by the Romans since they 
have become masters of these beautiful 
provinces of Gaul. 

On a summer night, lighted by a brilliant 
moon, a man — no, a Gallic slave, for he 
was dressed in livery, his head was shaven, 
and his neck was encircled with an iron 
collar — issued from the suburbs of the town 
of Orange. Being attached to the house- 
hold service of his master, ho wore no irons 
like the slaves employed in the fields or in 
most of the factories, and who were, there- 
fore, called the ironed race.* * 

whereof we have judicial and legal proofs. Christ was 
the victim of a political persecution .” — Christ before 
Caiaphas and Pilate, Diipin. 

And they were the more fierce, saying, He stirreth 
up the people, teaching throughout all Jewry.”— Luke, 
XXIII., 5. 

* “ The slaves who were unfitted for other employ- 
ment.” says Wallon, ” were sent to labor in the fields, 
and as the burdensome nature of their tasks rendered 


After passing the immense amphithea- 
tre, where the combats of the gladiators 
took place, and where were confined the 
wild beasts, lions, tigers and elephants, 
the strong and acrid odor of which 
was perceived at a distance, the slave fol- 
lowed for some distance the avenues of 
rose-laurels and lemon-trees in blossom, 
which surrounded the sumptuous Roman 
villas. Soon abandoning this smiling land- 
scape, however, he plunged into the forest, 
crossed a deep and rapid torrent by leaping 
from rock to rock, gained the steep declivity 
of the mountains, here and there covered 
with blocks of granite : and, having reached 
its summit, descended to the bottom of a 
wild, uncultivated and desert valley, without 
verdure, and not less rocky than the mount- 
ains. Amidst the profound silence of this 
solitude, illumined by the light of the 
waning moon, the Gallic slave heard in 
the distance, in various directions, the hasty 
footsteps of men, mingled with the clanking 
of the chains which some of them wore on 
their feet. After pausing for an instant to 
listen, the slave hastened his steps, and soon 
reached a dark grotto, the entrance of which 
was so low that he was obliged to creep on 
his hands and knees to make his way there- 
in. He crept forward thus for some mo- 
ments, when a voice from the darkness said 
to him in Gallic : 

“ Stop ! the axe is raised above thy head.” 

“ The branch of the sacred oak will cover 
me with its shade, and protect me,” an- 
swered the slave. 

“ The branch of the oak is withered,” 
returned the voice ; “ the wind of the tem- 
pest has swept away its leaves, and thou 
canst no longer take refuge beneath its 
sacred shade. Who will protect thee ?” 

“ The branch of the oak sheds its leaves 
in winter, but the sacred mistletoe always 
remains green,” replied the slave ; “ seven 
twigs of it will protect me.” 

“ What signify these seven twigs of the 
mistletoe ?” 

“ Seven letters.” 

“ What word do they form ?” 

“ Liberty.” 

“ Pass bn.” 

The slave crept onward, till, by degrees, 
the walls of the cavern rose, and he was 
able to walk, first half-bent, and afterward 
erect, but still in the most profound dark- 
ness. Ere long, another voice, issuing from 
the obscurity, said : 

“ Stop ! the knife is raised above thy 
breast.” 

“ Seven twigs of the mistletoe will pro- 
tect me.” 

“At this moment,” returned the voice. 


them prone to fiee, they were chained at night in the 
ergastulum, and were followed in the day by overseers, 
who never quitted them. Moreover, they were styled 
(he Ironed race.” 


122 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


“the sacred mistletoe is dripping teawj, 
sweat and blood.^^ 

“ These tears, sweat, and hlood will one 
day he transformed into fruitful dew.” 

“ What will they fructify ?” 

“ The independence of Haul.” 

“ Who watches over subjugated Gaul ?” 

“ Ilesus the all-powerful, and his vener- 
ated Druids, who wander through the 
forests and hide in caverns such as this.” 

“ What is thy name ?” 

“ Brittany.” 

“ Who art thou ?” 

“ A Child of the Mistletoe.” 

“ Pass on.” 

The Gallic slave, after thus replying to 
the questions w'hich were always addressed 
to the Children of the Mistletoe as they 
came to the nocturnal meetings, advanced 
a few steps farther, and stopped. The 
darkness w^as still profound. Through the 
silence were heard the movements of many 
ersons assembled in this place, and the 
ull clanking of the irons that most of 
them wore. Presently, the voice of the 
Druid who presided over the secret meeting 
called, “ Auvergne !” 

“ Here,” returned a voice. 

“ Artois !” 

“ Here.” 

“ Brittany !” 

“ Here,” rejoined the slave ; and after 
him, each one answered to the call of 
almost all the provinces, represented at this 
meeting by slaves who had been sold and 
brought from different sections of the coun- 
try to Propengal Gaul, become Romnn by 
conquest. After this roll-call, a deep si- 
lence fell on the assembly, and the Druid 
continued : 

“ Artois and Burgundy introduce a new 
disciple for initiation ?” 

“ Yes, yes,” replied several voices. 

“ Has he been tried by tears and blood ?” 
asked the Druid. 

“ He has been tried.”* 

“ Do you swear it by Hesus ?” 

“ We do.” 

“ Let him hearken and answer,” returned 
the Druid. “ What dost thou wish, thou 
new-comer ?” he added. 

“ To be a Child of the Mistletoe.” 

“ Wherefore dost thou wish it ?” 

“ To obtain justice, liberty, and venge- 
ance,” returned the voice of the neophyte. 

“ Thou who demandest justice, liberty, 
and vengeance,” continued the Druid, “ hast 
thou been despoiled and enslaved by the 
stranger ? Dost thou labor under his lash, 
with shackles on thy feet and the iron col- 
lar on thy neck ? Do thy labors, begin- 
ning with the dawn and often prolonged far 


* Amidee Thierry, in his History of the Gauls, de- 
scribes the admirable persistency of the Druids in dc- 
lending their nationality and preaching the war of 
independence. 


into the night, enrich the Roman who 
bought thee like an ox ? Does he live ^hus 
in opulence and idleness, while thou livest 
in wretchedness and slavery ?” 

“ Yes, I labor, and the Roman reaps the 
profit ; I suffer, and he enjoys.” 

“ Did the fields where now thou laborest 
for the foreign conqueror belong to thy 
free-born fathers ?” 

“ Y"es.” 

“ Are the sweet and pure joys of the 
family forbidden thee ? Is the sanctity of 
marriage interdicted thee ? Does the Ro- 
man, regarding thee in the light of an 
animal, separate thee when it pleases him 
from thy wife and children, in order to sell 
them to distant lands 

“ Y’^es.” 

“Are thy children, by corruption or vio- 
lence, prostituted to tiiy mastePs pleasure ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Are thy gods proscribed ? are their 
ministers persecuted and hunted down like 
wild beasts, and crucified like thieves ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Can the Roman beat thee, brand thee in 
the forehead, mutilate thee, and torture 
thee and thine at his pleasure ? Can he 
make you perish in horrible tortures for the 
simple reason that it gratifies his malig- 
nity ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Dost thou wish to break this abhorred 
yoke ?” 

“ I do.” 

“ Dost thou wish that Gaul, again proud 
and free, should be able peacefully to honor 
her heroes, to worship her gods, and to 
insure the happiness of all her children?” 

“ I do, I do.” 

“ Dost thou know that this task will be 
long ; and that it will be full of sufferings, 
and bristling with trials and dangers ?” 

“ I do.” 

“ Dost thou know that it involves life — I 
do not say death, for the time is gone by 
when we could quit this existence by an easy 
and voluntary death, in order to please 
Ilesus and to live elsewhere with those Ave 
loved ? No, no, to die is nothing for the 
Gaul, but it is anguish to him to live a 
slave j yet, to please Hesus, it is necessary 
to resign thyself to this, in order to labor 
slowly and faithfully for the deliverence of 
our race. Dost thou consent to this ?” 

“ I do.” 

“ Dost thou swear, by Hesus, whatever 
ills thou and thine may suffer, never to raise 
your hand against thine own life or theirs, 
but to wait for the angel of death to call 
thee hence ?” 

“ I swear it, by Hesus.” 

“ Dost thou swear, when the signal 
for insurrection and battle shall be given 
from the north to the south and from the 
east to the west of Gaul, to strike dowa 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


123 


thy master, the Roman, and to fight him to 
the end 
“ I do.’’ 

“ Dost thou swear to await the day of a 
terrible vengeance with patience and resig- 
nation, and only to rise at the voice of the 
Druids, that precious blood may not be 
spilt in vain in an isolated rebellion ?” 

“ I do.” 

“ Dost thou swear to include in a common 
hatred both the Romans and those coward- 
ly Gauls, traitors to their country, who have 
joined our oppressors in crushing the val- 
iant common people, exhausted by twenty 
years’ conflict ? Dost thou hate those per- 
jured wretches, who have deserted the cause 
of liberty, in order to enjoy their riches in 
peace under the protection of Rome, by 
begging the title of Roman citizens ?” 

“ I swear to hate them as deeply as the 
Romans, and to include them in the same 
terrible vengeance.” 

“ Dost thou swear, repugnant as it is to 
our race, to employ dissimulation and cun- 
ning, the only weapons of a slave, to lull thy 
master in security that, on the day of just- 
ice, he may awaken in terror t” 

“I do.” 

“ Dost thou swear to keep secret from thy 
masters the nocturnal meetings of the Chil- 
dren of the Mistletoe ? Dost thou swear to 
endure any torture, rather than to reveal the 
cause of this night’s absence, which thou 
wilt doubtless expiate to-morrow by scourg- 
ing and imprisonment ?” 

“ I do.” 

“ In the name of Hesus, then, be one of 
the brave Children of the Mistletoe, if those 
here present in the darkness accept you for 
their brother, as I, for my part, accept you 
for mine.” 

The new Child of the Mistletoe was unan- 
imously accepted. This done, the Druid 
resumed : 

“ All ye who are here in the darkness, 
hearken to my words : The deliverance of 
Gaul is distant perhaps, but perhaps also it 
is nigh at hand. I am about to give you 
good news — I, Ronan, the son of Taliessin, 
the most venerated of the Druids of Karnak, 
those sacred stones from which, let it never 
be forgotten, arose the first war-cry of 
Brittany — those sacred stones, watered with 
the generous blood of Ilena, the virgin of 
tho Isle of Sena, the glorious Gallic virgin 
whose courage and beauty the bards sing 
to this day.” 

“ Oh ! yes, Ilena was a saint ; the songs of 
the bards have told us of her,” returned 
several voices. “ Glory to the daughter of 
Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak ! 
Glory to the brave and gentle virgin who 
ofiered her innocent blood to Hesus to ap- 
pease his wrath ! Glory to the songs of the 
bards, our only consolation in slavery, for 
they recount the greatness of our fathers !” 


The Gallic slave, on hearing this, was 
unable to restrain his tears, which flowed 
gently down his cheeks amidst the dark- 
ness, for Ilena, long sung by the bards — 
Hena, the virgin of the Isle of Sena, whose 
name and memory were glorified at this 
moment, was the sister of Guilhern, the fa- 
ther of the weeping slave, Sylvest by name, 
the descendant of Joel, the brenn of the 
tribe of Karnak. 

The Druid continued, “ Our deliverance 
may be distant, but also it may be speedy. 
I, Ronan, the son of Taliessin, have come 
from Central Gaul, traveling by night and 
concealing myself by day in the forests and 
the caverns which serve, like this, for the se- 
cret meetings of the Children of the Mistletoe ; 
for, throughout the whole country, in spite 
of obstacles and dangers, the Children of 
the Mistletoe assemble in secret. Therein 
is our strength, therein is our hope — ^yes, our 
hope,” resumed the Druid. “ Let us hope; 
behold the good news ! The Romans, re- 
assured by the apparent tranquillity of the 
provinces during the late wars, are about 
to recall their great army to Italy. The 
van-guard is on the march toward this 
province, to embark at Marseilles. The 
passage of this army through our country 
will be the signal for the Children of the 
Mistletoe to prepare for the holy night of 
insurrection and vengeance.” 

“We are ready,” exclaimed several voices; 
“ let the night come !” 

“ And who will give the signal for this 
night of vengeance throughout Gaul, from 
the north to the south and from the east to 
tho west ?” resumed the Druid. “ Yes, 
who will give this nocturnal signal, visible 
to the eyes of all at the same hour — the 
same instant ? The moon, the sacred star 
of Gaul ! Listen, listen. The moon to-day 
begins to wane. In proportion as its orb 
shrinks, the Roman army will advance a 
stage toward the place of embarkation ; its 
military halts are numbered. When tho 
moon shall have attained the end of its 
last quarter, the Romans will be on the 
point of quitting Gaul, leaving only a feeble 
garrison therein.” 

“ And on this night will all Gaul rise in 
insurrection?” exclaimed Sylvest, with im- 
patient zeal. 

“ No, not upon that night,” replied the 
Druid. “ Although the winds at this sea- 
son are usually favorable, a contrary breeze 
might rise and delay the enemy’s depart- 
ure.” 

“ And if the revolt too closely followed 
the embarkation of the Romans,” said a 
voice, “a light craft might overtake the 
galleys at sew, and order them to bring back 
the troops.i’ 

“ That is true,” returned the Di’uid ; “the 
troops must have time enough to depart. 
The revolt is not to break out until the first 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


124 

night of the eecond quarter of the new 
moon. 0 oppressed Gauls !’’ added the in- 
spired Druid ; “ oh ! all ye, of whatever 
province, that are groaning in slavery, I 
see you, as this solemn moment approaches, 
with your eyes raised to heaven, all watch- 
ing for the signal so often watched for by 
our fathers. It appears — the golden cres- 
cent appears on the blue of the firmament. 
I hear but one sound from one end of Gaul 
to the other — the breaking of chains ; I 
hear but one cry — ‘Vengeance and lib- 
erty !’ ” 

“Vengeance and liberty!’’ repeated the 
Children of the Mistletoe, clanking their 
chains. 

“ Every insurrection without a head and 
without order is fatal and sterile,” resumed 
the Druid. “ When the hour of insurrec- 
tion strikes, will you be ready ?” 

“ We will,” said a farm slave. “ On the 
night of deliverance, the slaves of each iso- 
lated estate will kill the Romans and the 
overseers.” 

“ While sparing the women and chil- 
dren,” said the Druid ; “ the wives and 
children of our enemies are sacred to us.” 

“ There are women who deserve death as 
much as their husbands,” said a voice, “ for 
they surpass men in ferocity.” 

“ It is true,” added several other voices.” 
“ How many great Roman ladies rival the 
nobles in their monstrous debauchery and 
their cruelty toward their slaves !” 

“ Would you spare Faustina, then ?” said 
the voice that had first spoken. “ Would 
you spare Faustina, of the town of Orange, 
that noble lady whose lineage dates back, 
it is said, to Juno, one of the divinities of 
these Pagans ?” 

At the name of Faustina, which Sylvest 
also execrated, a murmur of horror and 
terror ran though the Children of the Mis- 
tletoe, and several exclaimed, “No pity for 
her and those like her 1 Death to them — 
the same death that they have inflicted on 
their slaves !” 

“ Faustina and her like are monsters of 
profligacy and ferocity,” continued the 
Druid ; “ no name can be found in human 
language for their infamous and sanguinary 
passions. Let the blood which they have 
shed be on their own heads. I speak of 
the wives and children of your masters, the 
Romans. Though they may have often been 
merciless toward you, and have over- 
whelmed you with toil, through covetous- 
ness, they are wealc and defenseless beings; 
spare them.” 

“ Yes, they shall be spared,” returned the 
farm-slave, “ but our Roman masters and 
overseers we shall slay without pity. This 
done, we slaves on the isolated estates will 
seize the arms, provisions, and chariots, 
./hoose a leader, and retire to the nearest 
cown.” 


“In the towns,” said a slave, partly a 
husbandman and partly a mechanic, “ the 
slaves who, at the same signal, will have 
rid themselves of their masters, armed 
themselves, and chosen a leader, will wel- 
come their brethren from the country, and 
fortify their towns as well as they can, 
while awaiting aid from the nearest city.” 

“ In the cities,” said Sylvest, the house- 
slave, “ the slaves employed in households, 
trades, and manufactories, at the same sig- 
nal will do justice on the Romans and their 
feeble garrisons, seize the arms, and organ- 
ize themselves into companies, each one of 
which will choose a leader, who in turn will 
choose a commander-in-chief, occupy the 
military posts, close the gates of the city, 
and await orders from the Supreme Council 
of the Children of the Mistletoe.” | 

“And these orders will not be long in 
coming,” said the Druid. “ The Supremo 
Council will assemble, at the same signal, 
in the forest of Chartres, in the heart of 
Gaul. Its orders will be dispatched in all 
directions ; we shall gain strength from 
union. The population will be levied in a 
body, in order to be able to sustain a final 
struggle with Rome, should she invade us 
anew. All united this time against the 
enemy, victory is not doubtful. Gaul will 
regain her independence, and the blessed 
day will at last arrive when she can peace- 
fully honor her heroes, worship her gods, 
and insure the happiness of her children.” 

“ There . is hope for Gaul I” cried the 
Children of the Mistletoe. 

“ Oh 1 why is not this the night !” ex- 
claimed one of the assembly. 

“ Children,” said the Druid, “ be not im- 
patient. You have been told that the deliv- 
erance of Gaul may, perhaps, be nigh at 
hand ; it may also be to off. Who knows ? 
The Roman army, already on its way to 
Italy, may pause or retrace its steps, and 
prolong its occupation. For thirty years 
the purest and most generous blood of 
Gaul has been flowing in terrible struggles ; 
now exhausted, disarmed, and chained, it 
cannot think of openly attacking the im- 
mense Roman army, disciplined and inured 
to war ; we should be crushed at the first 
attempt. If, this time, the foreign troops 
deceive our expectations by remaining in 
the country, we must postpone our projects ; 
till the time arrives to put them m execu- 
tion, patience, children, patience, calmness 
and resignation. Let faith in the justice of 
our cause be our imperishable strength ; 
let us think of all the blood shed by our 
fathers, and let the remembrance of their 
martyrdom and heroism console and sus- 
tain us 1” 

“ Yes, let this remembrance console and 
sustain us,” cried an inspired bard, for at 
each of these meetings of the Children of 
the Mistletoe, the bards always sang some 


*rHE IRON COLLAR. 


125 


manly lay before the close, which warmed 
tho breasts of us, poor slaves, and the 
chorus of which, repeated among us in a 
low voice, seemed to alleviate our rude toil 
and sufierings. “Yes,” resumed the bard, 
“ let this remembrance sustain and console 
us, and render us, poor slaves that we are, 
prouder than kings. Listen to the song in- 
spired by one of the greatest of Gaul’s 
heroes, the Chief of the Hundred Valleys — 
that hero of whom the forever accursed 
Caesar was the cowardly executioner !” 

At the name of the Chief of the Hundred 
Valleys, a thrill of patriotic pride ran 
through the hearts of the Children of the 
Mistletoe, and Sylvest doubly shared this 
ride • he remembered that in his child- 
ood, before the battle of Vannes, Vercinge- 
torix, the Chief of the Hundred Valleys, 
had been the guest of his grandfather Joel, 
the brenn of the tribe of Karnak. 

The bai-d compienced his song : 

“ How many Gallic warriors have fallen, 
from the battle of Vannes to the siege of 
Alesia ? Yes, during these four years, 
how many have died a sohlier’s death for 
the cause of liberty ? A hundred thousand 
— is that too many? No. Two hundred 
thousand? No. Three hundred thousand 
— four hundred thousand? No, it is not 
too many • no, it is not enough ! Count the 
dead leaves that have fallen from our sacred 
oaks during these four years, and you will 
not yet have reacted the number of Gallic 
warriors whose bones whiten the fields of 
their fathers ! 

“ And all these warriors — by name Luc- 
terus, Camulogenus, the aged defender of 
Paris, Corres, Cavarill, Epidorix, Comm, 
Virdumar, Vergisallaiim, and Ambiorix — 
at the voice of what warrior do they rise 
to gain the independence of their country ? 
All rise at the voice of the Chief of the 
Hundred Valleys, he who, from the battle 
of Vannes to the siege of Alesia, has kept 
tho field for four years and twice defeated 
Caesar. Another effort, a last effort, and 
Gaul will be delivered ! 

“ But no, the cowardly Gauls of the 
higher classes do not wish this j they pre- 
fer repose and wealth under a foreign yoke 
to the rude and sanguinary work of deliv- 
erance. Magistrates — they open their gates 
to the Romans ] military chiefs — they leave 
their troops without orders or directions, 
and inspire them with suspicion and dis- 
couragement, and the greater part of these 
troops disperse. 

“ Some one, however, is waiting for these 
valiant troops. \V’ho is waiting for them ? 
It is the Chief of tho Hundred Valleys. 
Where is he waiting for them? In the 
city of Alesia, amidst the Cevennes ; there 
he is shut up with tho wrecks of his army, 
and the wives and children of his soldiers. 
Caesar is besieging him in person— the Ro- 


mans are ten to ohA Provisions are lack- 
ing ; famine strikes down the weakest • but 
from day to day, and from hour to hour, 
they look for aid from the traitors, and 
say, ‘ They are coming, they are coming.’ 
No, they are not coming ; no, they will not 
come ! 

“ No, they are not coming ; no, they will 
not come ! A last effort, however, would 
deliver Gaul. The cowards have shrunk 
back. On seeing this, tho Chief of the 
Hundred V alleys shows himself greater in 
heart, even, than in courage. He can fly 
alone; the means of escape are prepared 
for him ; but he knows that it is he, the 
soul of the sacred war, that Caesar pursues 
with deadly hatred. He knows that Ale- 
sia, unable longer to resist, is about to fall 
into the power of the Romans ; ho knows 
vrhat the Romans do with their prisoners, 
women and children, and he dispatches one 
of his ofl^cer8 by night to Caesar. In two 
hours the officer returns. 

“ Morn has come, and the sun is rising 
above the ramparts of Alesia. What is 
that tribunal, covered with purple tapestry, 
that rises between the intrenchments of the 
■Roman camp and the walls of the besieged 
Gallic city ? Who is that pale man, with 
bald forehead, eager and haggard eye, and 
cruel smile, that is seated on this tribunal 
in his ivory arm-chair — alone, seated in the 
midst of his generals, who are standing 
about him ? That pale, bald man is Caesar. 

“ And this warrior on horseback that 
issues alone from one of the gates of Alesia 
— who is he ? His long sword is suspend- 
ed at his side; in one hand he holds a jave- 
lin; proud and martial is his lofty stature 
under his steel cuirass, which glitters in the 
rays of the morning sun ; proud and sad is 
his manly face under his silver casque, sur- 
mounted by a cock with half-spread wings, 
tho emblem of Gaul ; the embroidered crim- 
son housings which half cover his black 
steed — his fiery black steed, prancing and 
neighing — floats in the wind. Yes, this 
proud warrior — who is he? This proud 
warrior is the Chief of the Hundred Val- 
leys ! 

“ Where is he going in this guise ? 
What is he about to do ? Behold ! he spurs 
forward his black courser, which bounds to 
the foot of the tribunal where thopale, bald 
Caesar is seated. Then the Chief of tho 
Hundred V alleys sjieaks : ‘ Caesar, my 

death would not satisfy thy hatred; thou 
iusistedst on possessing me living — hero I 
am. Caesar, thou swor’st to my envoy to 
spare the inhabitants of Alesia if I would 
surrender myself a prisoner. I am thy 
prisoner.’ And the Chief of the Hundred 
V alleys leaps from his horse, throws away 
his shining casque, heavy javelin and pow- 
erful sword, and, with bare head, extends 
his hands, his vMiant hands, to the chains 


126 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


of the lictors of Coesar, the pale Coesar, who, 
from his tribunal, loads his disarmed and 
vanquished foe with insults, and sends him 
to Rome.* 

“ Four years have passed, and a long tri- 
umphal procession winds its way to the Cap- 
itol at Rome. Caesar, clad in the imperial 
purple and crowned with laurels, advances, 
intoxicated with pride, standing erect in a 
chariot of gold, drawn by eight wliite 
horses. Who is this livid and emaciated 
slave, in rags, loaded with chains, and led 
by lictors armed with axes,who walks with 
a firm step before the chariot of Caesar ? 
Yes, who is this slave ? This slave is the 
Chief of the Hundred Valleys! To-day, 
Caesar has taken him from the dungeon 
where ho has languished for four years— 
and the most glorious ornament of the tri- 
umph of this conqueror of the world is the 
Gallic captive. But the triumphal proces- 
sion pauses. Caesar makes a gesture; a 
man kneels, and a head falls under the axe 
of the lictors. Whose head has thus fallen ? 
It is the head of the Chief of the Hundred 
Valleys. This blood that flows is the 
blood of the greatest hero of Gaul ; a slave 
like us, and a martyr like us. 

“ Two years more have passed since the 
punishment. The gods are just. Who is 
this man clad in imperial purple, into whose 
breast a score of daggers are thrust? Yes, 
who is this man to whom these avengers 
say, ‘ Die, tyrant ! die, traitor to the repub- 
lic I die, traitor to liberty ! This man, at last 
struck by the hand of a free man (thy hand 
be forever glorified, 0 Brutus !) — this man, 
who, during his long life, has been the 
bloody executioner of the liberties of the 
world, is Caesar, the murderer of the Chief 
of the Hundred Valleys; Caesar, the cow- 
ardly murderer of the chained captive. 

“Ah! yes, the gods are just! Flow, 
flow, blood of the captive ! Fall, fall, en- 
sanguined dew! Take root and grow, 
avenging harvest ! Behold ! it is ripe ; 0 
reaper, sharpen thy scythe !” 

The Children of the Mistletoe, roused to 
enthusiasm by this chorus of the bard, all 
repeated, clanking their chains with a sin- 
ister cadence, “ Flow, flow, blood of the cap- 
tive! Fall, fall, ensanguined dew! Take 
root and grow, avenging harvest ! Behold ! 
it is ripe ; O reapec, sharpen thy scythe !” 

And all the Children of the Mistletoe 
quitted the grotto by its different outlets, to 
return to the fields, towns and cities which 
they had left with great difficulty, and for 
their absence from which many of them 
would pay dearly on the morrow. 

* All r'thls cl’scription of the purrender of Vercinge- 
tovix, the Chief of the Hundred Valleys, to Cajsar, in 
order to save the garrison of Alesia, and his subsequent 
death, is histi/rlcaliy exact, even to the details of cos- 
tume. See Caesar, De Bello Galileo ; Am6dee Thierry, 
History of the Gauls; Henri Martin, History of France, 
etc. 


CHAPTER 11. 

Sylvest introduces himself into the villa of the noble 
Faustina. — The Terajile of the Canal. — The recreations 
of a noble Roman lady. — The torture. — The sorceress. 
— Poisoning of a slave. — The orgie. — Sylvest meets 
Loyse. — He is surprised with her in the gardens of 
Faustina. 

The moon set and the darkness became 
profound. Sylvest, after again passing 
through the deserted and rocky valley, 
crossed the torrent and gained the thick 
forest and the road to Orange. He did not, 
however, direct his steps toward this town, 
where his master lived, but took a foot- 
path at the right of the road, and after 
walking a long distance, reached a high 
brick wall, inclosing an immense park 
which adjoined the villa of Faustina, the 
patrician lady whose name had been pro- 
nounced with such abhorrence in the meet- 
ing of the Children of the Mistletoe. Paus- 
ing for an instant, Sylvest "took from the 
brush, where it was concealed, a large 
bough of a tree, furnished here and there 
with branches, thus forming a sort of lad- 
der, which he placed against the wall, and, 
being young, agile and robust, quickly 
scaled it; then passing the bough to the 
other side, he descended into the park. 

The shade of the great trees was so dense 
that he could scarcely see before him; but 
he was well acquainted with the place, and 
soon reached the banks of a canal, adorned 
with marble balustrades, which rose a 
temple built in the form of a rotunda, sur- 
rounded with an elegant open colonnade, 
forming a circular portico around the edi- 
fice, which communicated with the canal 
by means of a broad flight of steps, extend- 
ing to the water’s edge. Sylvest, walking 
on tip-toe, with a listening ear, entered the 
colonnade and called several times, in a 
low tone, “ Loyse ! Loyse !” 

No one answered the call. Astonished 
at this silence — for, having been delayed 
by the meeting of the Children of the 
Mistletoe, he had expected to find that 
Loyse had long been waiting for him in 
this place — he groped his way to the stair- 
case leading to the canal, thinking that 
Loyse might be on the steps; but his hope 
was vain. Suddenly, he saw a bright light 
reflected on tho waters from a distance, 
while a breeze wafted to him, with the 
odor ot lemon and almond blossoms, tho 
contused sound of lyres and flutes, accom- 
pauied with songs. 

Sylvest supposed that Faustina was float- 
ing on the canal in her gondola, on this 
warm and beautiful summer night, with 
her singing-slaves and musicians. Tho 
harmonious sounds approaching nearer and 
nearer, as well as the reflection of the 
lights upon the waters, he supposed that 
the gondola was about to pass tiie temple, 
and prudently withdrew into the shade. 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


127 


Surprised and anxious at not having met 
Loyse, he did not yet lose all hope, but 
listened intently on the side of the gardens. 
All at once, he discerned in this direction, 
through the darkness, the light of several 
lanterns, and the steps and voices of the 
men who carried them. Seized with terror 
— for he confesses that at that moment he 
dreaded death — and knowing that if sur- 
prised in the park of the noble Roman lady 
he might be killed on the spot, he hesi- 
tated. To return to the canal was to run 
the risk of being seen by the torch-bearers 
of the gondola, which in a few moments 
would reach the steps of the temple. To 
remain in the gardens was to expose him- 
self to the danger of being discovered by 
the men who were approaching the temple 
from that direction. Seeing the lanterns 
still at a considerable distance, he had time 
to* climb one of the columns, and, clinging 
to its projecting capital, to reach the base 
of a large circular cornice which encircled 
the dome of the rotunda; then he stretched 
himself flat on his belly upon this entab- 
lature. The lantern-bearers passed round 
the temple and went onward. Sylvest 
breathed again ; nevertheless, fearing lest 
they might retrace their steps, he dared 
not yet descend from his hiding-place. 
His alarm, however, for a moment ap- 
peased, was soon redoubled ; the gondola 
stopped before the staircase, and the songs 
ceased. There was no more room for 
doubt; Faustina was about to enter the ro- 
tunda while her slaves watched without, or 
else to leave her gondola in order to walk 
in the gardens. Surrounded by dangers, 
Sylvest remained concealed behind the cor- 
nice. lie soon remarked several openings 
in the side of the broad entablature which 
hid him from view, doubtless designed to 
allow currents of fresh air to pass through ; 
by this means he could see from his hiding- 
place what took place in the rotunda. For 
a few moments, all was buried in darkness; 
but he soon heard the door open which led 
to the canal, and saw an Ethiopian of gi- 
gantic stature, dressed in a short orange 
robe trimmed with silver, and a scarlet 
turban, with a broad silver collar on his 
neck, and bands of the same metal on his 
naked, brawny legs, enter, bearing a torch 
in his hand. 

The Ethiopian lighted several gilded 
candelabras placed around a statue repre- 
senting tlie god Priapus. The rotunda by 
this means was brilliantly lighted, while 
the cavity below the openings in the upper 
cupola, Avliere Sylvest lay hidden, remained 
in the shade. Iletween the w'hite marble 
columns of the interior, the flutings of 
which were gilded like their capitals, were 
fresco paintings so obscene that Sylvest 
would blush to describe them. The floor 
of the temple was hidden by a thick mat- 


ting covered with purple stufl', and numer- 
ous cushions were placed here and there. Be- 
tween two of the columns, and facing each 
other, were ivory buffets, inlaid with shell 
and richly carved, on the porphyry slabs 
of which were seen large vases of chased 
gold, cups set with precious stones, and 
others still more costly — those murrhine 
vases* which were brought, at such great 
cost, from the East, and which are made of a 
sort of odorous and polished paste, glitter- 
ing with all the hues of the rainbow. Small 
amphorae of Saguntum clay were plunged 
into silver basins full of snow ; and large acer- 
rae,! filled with perfumes, stood on tripods 
around the statue of the god of the gar- 
dens ; the negro lighted the latter, where- 
upon a balsamic 'but almost intoxicating 
odor rose from the golden tripods and filled 
the cupola. 

These preparations finished, the gigantic 
Ethiopian disappeared through the door 
that opened on the canal, and quickly re- 
turned, carrying in his arms, like a sleeping 
child, a woman wrapped in long vails. 
Several young slaves of rare beauty, mag- 
nificently clad, followed the negro ; they 
were the female slaves of the great Roman 
lady — the rich and noble Faustina — robers, 
rockers, hair-dressers, sandal-tyers, purse- 
bearers, singers, musicians, and many be- 
side. J As soon as they entered the temple, 
they hastened to pile up the cushions, that 
their mistress, whom the slave still held in 
his arms, might repose as luxuriously as 
possible. Those of the slaves who had 
played the flute and the lyre on the way to 
the temple still held their musical instru- 
ments in their hands. Among them were 
two young and beautiful Greek freedmen, 
from sixteen to eighteen years of age, recog- 
nizable, like all of their nation condemned 
to servitude, by their lascivious mien, their 
bold physiognomy, and their short, frizzled 
hair, as well as their costume, as rich as eflfem- 


* The murrhine vases were first introduced into Rome 
hy Pompey, who dedicated cups of this kind to Jupiter 
Capitolinus. Their value was very great. Nero gave 
three hundred talents for a drinking-cup. Pliny says 
that these murrhine vessels came from the East, princi- 
pally from places within the Parthian Empire, and 
chiefly from Caramania. He describes them as made of 
a substance formed by a moisture thickened in the earth 
by heat, and says that they were chiefly valued on ac- 
count of their variety of colors. Modern writers differ 
much respecting the material of which they were com- 
posed. Some think that they were variegated glass, 
and others that they were made of onyx, since that 
stone presents a variety of colors ; but this conjecture is 
overthrown by Lampridius, who speaks of onyx and 
murrhine vases. Most recent writers are inclined to 
think that they were Chinese porcelain. See Smith’s 
Dictionary of Antiquities. 
t Incense-boxes used by the ancients, 
i The number of slaves attached to the service of a 
great Roman lady is not exaggerated, as is proved by 
this passage from one of Plautus’s comedies : “ When 
she gives a supper, she brings all the slaves of her 
household— the perfumer, the jewel-keeper, the maids 
that dress her and those that fan her, the sandal-tyers, 
the singers, the rockers, the purse-bearers, the message- 
bearers, and the answer-bearers.” 


128 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


inate. They carried large fans of peacock’s 
featliers, designed to cool the air about 
their mistress.* 

The cushions having been carefully ar- 
ranged, the Ethiopian placed the noble 
Faustina thereon with as much caution as 
though he were afraid of breaking her •, 
after which, the two young Greeks, laying 
down their fans, knelt by the side of their 
mistress, and gently drew aside the vails 
in which she was shrouded. 

Sylvest had often heard of Faustina, 
who was celebrated, like many other Ro- 
man ladies, for her beauty, opulence, and 
frightful profligacy, but had never before 
beheld this dreaded woman, whom he now 
contemplated with mingled abhorrence, 
hatred, and curiosity. • 

Of middle height and fragile, Faustina, 
whose age did not exceed thirty at most, 
would have been a woman of rare beauty, 
had not her regular and finely cut features 
been already jaded and withered by fright- 
ful excesses. Iler thick black hair was 
seen through the meshes of the golden net 
that encircled her pale, high forehead. 
Her black eyes, deep set and half closed, 
appeared for a moment dazzled by the 
brightness of the light ; but, at the first 
contraction of her eyelids, two of the slaves, 
anticipating her wishes through fear of 
punishment, hastily unfolded a vail, which 
they held between the light of the cande- 
labras and their mistress. 

Faustina wore a long white tunic of 
Tyrian silk, embroidered with gold, and 
another much shorter one over it of bright 
green silk, embroidered Avith sjlver. Her 
transparent arms were bare, and for a cor- 
sage she had nothing but a golden net like 
that of her hair, through which her white 
bust and shoulders were plainly visible. 
A necklace of large pearls and Oriental 
rubies encircled her long and flexible neck 
several times ; her small oars were dis- 
tended by the weight of numerous pendants 
of diamonds, emeralds, and carbuncles, 
which fell almost to her shoulders her 
stockings were of pink silk, and her golden- 
soled sandals, fastened on her feet by 
strings of green silk, were completely cov- 
ered Avith precious stones. 

The great lady, thus luxuriously reclin- 
ing on her cushions, made a sign to the tAvo 
young Greeks, who knelt on each side of 
their mistress, and began to fan her gently, 
while the gigantic negro knelt behind her, 
ready to rearrange the pillows on the 
slightest displacement. Faustina then said, 
in a languishing voice, “ I am thirsty.” 
Several of her women instantly rushed to 
the ivory bufiets; one placed a murrhine 


* In corroboration of this description of the noble 
Itoman ladies, see Juvenal, Martial, etc 
t See Disobry, The Romans in the Augustan Age. 


cup on a jasper salver, another took a 
golden vase, while a third brought one of 
the large silver basins filled Avith snoAv, and 
containing several Saguntum clay flasks. 
Faustina indicated by a gesture that she 
wished the wine cooled with snow. One 
of the slaves extended a cup, which was in- 
stantly filled ; but as she was hastening to 
carry it to her mistress, the young girl 
stumbled over one of the cushions, and a 
few drops of the iced liquor fell on the foot 
of Faustina. She frowned, took the cup 
with one of her thin, white hands, and 
pointed with the other to the wine-spot on 
the stocking ; then slowly drained the cup, 
without taking her piercing black eyes off 
the young girl, who trembled and turned 
pale. 

Scarcely had the great lady drank when 
several hands Avere extended to take the 
cup. Throwing herself back, and leaning 
one elbow on the cushions, Avhile the two 
Greeks continued to fan her, Faustina be- 
gan to play with the ear-rings of the youths 
and smiled sardonically, showing two roAvs 
of small white teeth between her blood-red 
lips. She then said to the slave who had 
awkwardly spilled a feAv drops of wine : 

“On your knees, Philenia!” 

The terrified slave obeyed. 

“ Nearer !” said Faustina, “ nearer, within 
my reach!” Philenia obeyed aneAV. “I am 
very warm,” exclaimed the noble lady,Avhile 
her young slave, more and more terrified, 
approached her mistress almost near enough 
to touch her. The two young Greeks fanned 
more vigorously than ever, and the handker- 
chief-bearer took from her perfumed satchel 
a square piece of linen beautifully embroid- 
ered, and gaA’e it to one of her companions, 
who hastened respectfully to Avipe the moist 
brow of her mistress. Philenia shudder- 
ingly awaited her fate. Faustina gazed at 
her for some moments with an air of fe- 
rocious satisfaction, then said, “ The pin- 
cushion 1” 

At these words, the slave stretched her 
hands entreatingly toward her mistress, 
who, without taking the slightest notice of 
this imploring gesture, said to the negro, 
“Erebus, uncover her bosom, and hold her 
fast.” 

The Ethiopian, with dissolute joy, ex- 
ecuted the orders of the great lady, Avho 
took from one of her women a singular and 
horrible instrument of torture.* This Avas 
a long and flexible rod of steel, ending in a 
convex gold plate, covered Avith a red silk 
cushion, iuAvhich a great number of pins Avero 
fixed by their heads in such a manner that 
their points proiected from the cushion. 
The negro seizccl Philenia, Avho, pale and 
trembling, made no effort to resist. 


* For ii description of this torture, see De^obry, Tlte 
Romans in the Augustan Age: 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


129 


Amidst a gloomy eileuce — for all knew the 
punishment that was in store for the slight- 
est mark of pity — Faustina, supporting her- 
self on the cushion, with her cheek resting 
on her left hand, took the steel rod in her 
right, and balancing it for a moment, 
struck with the cushion the uncovered 
bosom of Philenia, who was held in the 
strong grasp of the Ethiopian kneeling be- 
hind her. At the acute pain, the unhappy 
child uttered a cry, and several little crim- 
son drops appeared on her snowy skin. At 
the sight of blood and the cries of the vic- 
tim, Faustina’s eyes, hitherto lustreless, 
sparkled vindictively ; the smile of this 
monster became frightful, and she exclaim- 
ed animatedly, sitting upright, with a sort 
of voluptuous and passionate ferocity, 
“ Shriek on, my sweet treasure ! Shriek on, 
it excites me! Shriek, my beautiful Les- 
bian I Shriek, my dove, shriek 1” And at 
each exclamation, she redoubled her 
strokes, till the slave’s bosom was soon 
covered with a slight dew of blood. Phi- 
lenia had the strength to suppress her moans 
of anguish for fear of still further excit- 
ing the barbarity of her mistress, whose 
features assumed an expression of increas- 
ing vindictiveness and terocity. Suddenly 
throwing away the pin-cushion, however, 
the noble lady half closed her eyes and said 
languidly, falling back on the cushions, 
while her victim, half fainting with pain, 
sank into the arms of her companions, “ I 
am thirsty again.” 

Just as her slaves were hastening to obey 
her, the piercing sound of two small cym- 
bals was heard outside in the direction of 
the canal. 

“ The Thessalian sorceress already !” said 
Faustina, sitting upright, after emptying 
her cup. “ By the Parcce, the sisters of 
this cunning old w'oman, 1 did not expect 
her thus early !” Then, addressing Erebus, 
“ Bring her hither directly,” said she, 
“ and let her boat wait at the bottom of the 
steps.” 

The Thessalian sorceress was introduced 
by Erebus. Her complexion was of a 
copper color, and her hideous face was 
half concealed by the long, tangled, gray 
hair that fell from her black hood, which 
was turned back. Her robe was also black, 
and was conliued at the waist by a red 
leather belt, on which magic characters 
were traced in white, and from which a" 
ouch was suspended. In her hand she 
eld a twig of hazel. 

At the sight of the sorceress, all the 
elaves appeared anxious and terrified ; but 
^ Faustina, as pale and impassive as a marble 
Btatue, did not move a muscle, and said to 
jthe Thessalian, who was standing in the 
! door-way : 

“ ApproaoJi, approach, thou osprey of the 
infernal regions!” 

9 


“ Thou hast sent in quest of me,” returned 
the sorceress, approaching ; “ what would’st 
thou of me ?” 

Sylvest was struck by the voice of the 
sorceress, which was fresh and youthful 
despite her age. 

“ I do not believe in thy science any more 
than I do in the power of the gods, wliich 
I laugh to scorn,” replied Faustina. “ Nev- 
ertheless, I wish to consult thee. This is 
one of my days of weakness.” 

“ Life does not believe in death ; the sun 
does not believe in the night,” returned the 
old woman, shaking her head. “ Yet the 
black night comes, and the tomb yawns. 
What woulcPst thou of me, noble Faust- 
ina ?” 

“ Hast thou heard of the famous gladia- 
tor, Mount Lib anus ?” 

“ What !” cried the sorceress, with a 
strange burst of laughter, “he again, that 
Hercules, with an iron arm and a tiger’s 
heart !” 

“ What meanest thou ?” 

“Look you, noble Faustina, out of ten 
great ladies that have recourse to my magic 
charms, nine begin, like thee, with the name 
of the famous gladiator. Mount Lihanus.” 

“ I love him,” said Faustina, boldly, in 
the presence of her slaves, bending her 
brows, while her nostrils dilated and her 
whole body seemed to quiver. “ I adore 
Mount Libanus: I am madly in love with 
him !” 

“ Thou art not the only one.” 

“ I have written to him ; my letters re- 
main unanswered.” 

“ Thou art not the only one.” 

“ It matters little to me that he is loved ; 
I wish to know whether he loves.” 

The sorceress shook her head, and, fixing 
her eyes on the great lady as if to read the 
depths of her soul, she replied : 

“Faustina, what thou askest me thou 
knowest already, for it is known to the 
whole town of Orange.” 

“ Explain yourself,” said Faustina, whose 
brazen brow for the first time seemed 
troubled ; “ explain yourself.” 

“ At the last combat at the amphitheatre,” 
continued the sorceress, “ every time that 
the victorious Mount Libanus held his adver- 
sary under his feet, before plunging his dag- 
ger into his throat, did ho not turn with a sav- 
age smile toward a certain seat in the gilded 
gallery and wave his sword, after which he 
deliberately slew his vanquished foe ?” 

“And who occupied this seat?” asked 
Faustina, gnashing her teeth with rage. 
“ Answer.” 

“Thou askest what thou knowest al- 
ready ; for it is known to the whole town of 
Orange,” replied the sorceress anew. “ Ah ! 
thou wishest to know who was in this seat f 
I will tell thee. It was a new courtesan 
just come from Italy, of whose beauty 


130 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


Venus might be jealous — a blonde with 
black eyes and transparent complexion, a 
nymph in figure, about twenty-six years 
old, and so renowned for beauty that she is 
known only as the beautiful Gaul.” 

As the magician spoke, Sylvest felt his 
heart almost bursting and his brow bedewed 
with a cold sweat. He had heard of a Gal- 
lic courtesan Mdio had 'lately arrived at 
Orange, without knowing anything further 
about her ; but, on learning from the sor- 
ceress that she came from Italy, was about 
twenty-six years old, and had fair hair and 
black eyes, he remembered that his sister, 
Siomara, had been sold when a child, after 
the battle of Vannes, to Lord Trymalcion, 
who had directly afterward set out for Italy; 
that she also was about twenty-six years 
old, and that she also had fair hair and 
black eyes. A horrible presentiment crossed 
the mind of Sylvest ; he listened to the sor- 
ceress with redoubled anguish. 

Faustina, more and more gloomy and sin- 
ister in proportion as the old woman de- 
scribed the rare beauty of the Gallic court- 
esan, listened, with her eyes fixed, and her 
brow resting on her hand, to the Thessalian. 
The latter continued amidst the profound 
silence of the slaves, who were considered 
by their mistress, according to custom, as 
nothing more than domestic animals, with 
whom and before whom a person does 
everything, says every thing, and dares every- 
thing. 

“ The beautiful Gaul ! oh ! I know all 
about her, thanks to my magic secrets,” ad- 
ded the Thessalian, with a, mysterious air. 
“It was aluckydayformewheni heard that 
she had come to Orange.” And bursting 
into a horrible laugh, which made the great 
lady start, the horrible old woman added, 
“Ah! my beautiful Gaul! my worshiped 
beauty ! You will see some dark night 
— some night as dark as the graye — that 
the black hen has been setting on serpent’s 
eggs !” 

Sylvest did not understand these strange 
words, but the cruel expression of the 
Thessalian appalled him. 

“ Speak more clearly,” said Faustina, 
“ What mean these mysterious words ?” 

The sorceress shook her head and replied, 
“ The time has not come to tell thee more. 
But what I can tell thee, and this is no secret, 
is that the beautiful Gaul is named Siomara. 
She was sold with the estate of the rich old 
Lord Trymalcion, who left behind him 
suoh memories of opulence and imperial 
debauchery in Italy.” 

Sy] vest’s last doubt vanished. The Gallic 
courtesan was his sister — his sister Siomara, 
whom he had not seen for, eighteen years. 

Faustina had listened to the sorceress in 
gloomy silence ; she replied, “ So, Mount 
Libanus loves this courtesan, and is loved 
by her f ” 


“ Thou hast spoken the truth, noble lady.” 

“ Listen. Thou pretendest that thy art 
is powerful ; canst thou instantly break the 
charm that attaches Mount Libanus to this 
vile creature ?” 

“ No, but I can predict to thee whether 
this charm will or will not be broken; and 
whether it will be soon or late.” 

“Then speak,” exclaimed Faustina, who 
at this moment seemed sinister and paler 
than ever; “if thy art is not a falsehood, 
tell me the future instantly — speak !” 

“ Dost thou believe that the future is re- 
vealed to us without a propitiatory cere- 
mony ?” 

“ Perform thy ceremony ; make haste.” 

“ I must have three things.” 

“ What ?” 

“ One of thy hairs.” 

“ Here it is,” said Faustina, plucking out 
one of her black hairs through the meshes 
of her golden net. 

“ I must also have a ball of wax where- 
with to represent the heart of the beautiful 
Gaul; this heart I shall pierce with a nee- 
dle.” 

“ Erebus,” said Faustina to the gigantic 
Ethiopian, “ take a piece of wax from 
yonder torch.” Then addressing the sor- 
ceress, “ What more do you want ?” said 
she. 

The Thessalian whispered in the ear 6f 
the great lady, who said, “ Must she be 
young and beautiful ?” 

“ Yes, young and beautiful,” replied the 
sorceress, with a smile that made Sylvest 
shudder ; “ I love youth and beauty.” 

“ Choose,” said Faustina, designating by 
a gesture the slaves who stood mute and 
motionless around their mistress. 

The sorceress approached them, and care- 
fully examined the palms of several of 
these young girls, who, scarcely daring to 
manifest their anxiety before Faustina, 
stealthily exchanged glances. At length 
the old woman made choice of a beautiful 
child of fifteen, whose dark complexion and 
blue black hair denoted her to be a South- 
ern Gaul. The Thessalian seized her by 
the hand, dragged her trembling before the 
great lady, and said, “ This one suits.” 

“Take her,” replied Faustina, pensively, 
without even looking at the young girl, 
whose eyes, wet with tears, humbly implored 
mercy. 

“ A cup of wine !” said the sorceress. 

The Ethiopian took a cop from the ivory 
bufiet and filled it. 

Faustina became more and more gloomy ; 
she passed her hand twice across her brotv, 
and said to theyoung Greeks, who, absorbed 
in the scene, had ceased their fanuing, 
“Air, air! 1 am stilling. No negligence, 
or I will have you lashed soundly !” 

At this threat the two freedinen plied 
their fans with renewed activity. 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


181 


The negro having brought the cup of 
■wine from the buffet, the sorceress took a 
small flask from her pouch and emptied its 
contents into the golden vase, which she 
presented to the slave, saying, “ Drink !” 

Doubtless struck with a sinister suspi- 
cion, the unhappy child hesitated and 
looked at her companions, hoping for coun- 
sel, or at least for a pitying glance ; but, 
alas ! such is the horrible condition of serv- 
itude, that all the slaves turned away their 
eyes from the unfortunate girl, fearing to 
endanger their own safety by responding 
to her mute appeal for pity. Faustina, in- 
censed by the hesitation of her slave, cried 
in a threatening tone, “ By Pluto ! will you 
drink 

The young girl, seeing herself abandoned 
by all, turned deadly pale, raised her eyes 
to heaven with resignation, and lifted the 
cup to her lips with so trembling a hand 
that Sylvest heard the click of the metal 
against the poor child’s teeth ; then she 
drank, handed the cup to the Ethiopian, 
and shook her head dejectedly, like one 
bidding adieu to life. 

“ Now give me your hands,” said the sor- 
ceress. 

The young Gaul obeyed. The sorceress 
took a piece of chalk from her pocket and 
whitened the fingers of the slave. Scarcely 
had she finished this operation, when the 
child grew livid, her lips turned blue, her 
eyes seemed buried in their sockets, her 
limbs shivered, and, feeling that she was 
about to fall, she leaned against one of the 
tripods on which the perfumes were burn- 
ing, and placed her hands, with a bewil- 
dered air, now on her heart and then on her 
head. 

The great lady, still supporting her chin 
on her hand, had attentively followed the 
movements of the sorceress. She now 
asked : 

“ Why do you rub her fingers with 
chalk ?” 

“ In order that she may write.” 

“ What ?” 

“ The characters which she is about to 
trace on this purple carpet with her whit- 
ened fingers.” 

“ What are these characters ?” 

“Wait a moment,” replied the Thessa- 
lian, looking at the slave, “ and you will 
see.’^ 

The silence of death reigned in the tem- 
ple. All eyes were fixed fearlessly on the 
young girl, who no longer implored any 
one, and whose fate all divined. After 
leaning fainting against the tripod, she sud- 
denly seemed to grow giddy, stammered a 
few words, sank down and rolled on the 
carpet, w'here she almost immediately be- 
gan to writhe in horrible convulsions, in 
wdiich her hands, by turns cramped and re- 
laxed by pain, fumbled over the purple 


carpet that covered the floor, leaving thereon 
the white marks of her chalked fingers. 

“Look! look!” said the magician to the 
great lady, who, still resting lier chin on 
her hand, was gazing with tranquil curiosity 
at her slave writhing in the agony of 
death. “ Dost thou see those white charac- 
ters traced by her convulsive fingers ? Dost 
thou see what she is writing ? That is my 
conjuring book ; in that I shall read 
whether the chain that unites Mount Liba- 
nus to Siomara will soon be broken.” 

The other slaves, accustomed to such 
spectacles, remained impassive before the 
tortures of their companion; they would 
have paid too dearly for the slightest mark 
of commiseration. By degrees, the con- 
vulsions of the young Gaul became less 
violent, and she struggled but feebly against 
death. After a few last throes, she expired, 
and her limbs stiffened in a frightful manner. 

“ Take away this corpse, it is in my 
way,” said the sorceress. “ I must now 
read the decrees of fate traced by this 
dying hand.” 

The gigantic Ethiopian, as if accustomed 
to such things, took the lifeless body of the 
Gallic woman, directed his steps toward 
the door opening upon the canal, and dis- 
appeared. Sylvest, from his hiding-place, 
heard the sound of a body falling into the 
deep waters, and in a few instants saw the 
Ethiopian return to the temple. 

Faustina rose, left her cushions, and ap- 
proached the sorceress, who, bowed over 
the carpet, seemed to be deciphering the 
characters traced there by the dying girl. 
Faustina also bent forward and followed 
with a somber glance all the movements 
of the Thessalian, who pierced the ball of 
wax symbolizing the heart of Siomara with 
a needle, to which she fastened the hair of 
Faustina ; then, muttering confused words, 
she pricked on it here and there the white 
c haracters traced by the dying slave. From 
time to time Faustina anxiously asked the 
sorceress : 

“ What dost thou see now ?” 

“ Nothing good, as yet.” 

“ Thy magic is a cheat and a chimera !” 
exclaimed the noble lady, rising with dis- 
dain. “ It is naught but idle sport.” 

“ Here is a better sign, however,” con- 
tinued the old woman to herself, without 
heeding Faustina’s words. “ Yes, yes ; on 
comparing this sign with this other half- 
effaced one, it is good — very good.” 

“ Thou hast hope ?” cried Faustina ; and 
she bent again by the side of the old 
woman. 

“ Nevertheless,” resumed the latter, shak- 
ing her head, “ here is the heart of Siomara, 
which has just turned round three times of 
itself. A bad sign — a bad sign !” 

“I am a fool to listen to thee,” exclaimed 
Faustina, angrily rising. “ Begone ! quit 


182 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


my sight, osprey of the infernal regions! bird 
of ill-omen ! I have a great mind to make thee 
pay dearly for thy effrontery and imposture.’’ 

“By Venus!” suddenly cried the magi- 
cian, without appearing to hear the impre- 
cations of Faustina, “ I have never seen a 
clearer and surer prediction than these last 
signs. Yes, the chai-m that binds the gladi- 
ator, Mount Libanus, to Siomara, the Gaul, 
will be broken. Mount Libanus will prefer 
the noble Faustina to all other women. And 
that is not all — no, for these last signs are in- 
fallible ; the whole future is opened before 
me. Yes, I see ye, furies of hell, with your 
locks of vipers. Wave your torches, they 
light me, I see, I see !” added the Thessa- 
lian, and, a prey to a sort of increasing de- 
lirium, she tossed her arms wildly, as she 
rapidly whirled round. 

Sylvest remarked a strange circumstance ; 
the long, flowing sleeves of the magician 
were turned up for a moment in her 
abrupt movements, and it seemed to him 
that the arms of this horrible, wicked, and 
bronzed old woman were round and white as 
those of a young girl. 

The magician continued, more and more 
excited, “ Ye furies, wave your torches ! I 
see the Gaul, Siomara; she falls into the 
power of the noble Faustina. Yes, Faust- 
ina holds her in her grasp. Will she burn 
the flesh of her rival ? will she saw her 
bones ? will she tear out and devour her 
palpitating heart ? Furies, wave your 
torches, wave them that they may show me 
the whole future. Furies, furies, here ! here ! 
But the funereal lights have vanished,” pur- 
sued the sorceress, in a faltering tone. “ I 
see nothing more, nothing but the darkness 
of the tomb — nothing !” 

The horrible old woman, bathed in per- 
spiration, breathless and exhausted, leaned 
with closed eyes against one of the pillars, 
while Faustina, unable to restrain the joy 
caused her by this prediction, seized one of 
the hands of the Thessalian to recall her 
to her senses, and exclaimed : 

“ Ten thousand aurei for thee if thy pre- 
diction is realized ! Dost thou hear ? Ten 
thousand aurei !” 

“ What prediction ?” returned the old 
woman, appearing as though just awaken- 
ing from a dream, and passing her hand 
across her bi-ow to put aside the gray hair. 
“ Of what prediction art thou speaking ? 
What have I predicted ?” 

“ Thou hast predicted that Mount Li- 
banus will prefer me to all women !” cried 
Faustina, breathlessly ; “ thou hast predicted 
that Siomara will fall into my hands — that 
she will be mine, wholly mine !” 

“ When the spirit has departed, I remem- 
ber nothing that I have said,” replied the 
sorceress, who by this time had regained 
her senses. “Whatever I have predicted 
will be accomplished.” 


“ Then ten thousand aurei will be thine. 
Oh ! this imediotiou will be accomplished • 
I feel it in my heart burning with love and 
vengeance,” said Faustina. And more and 
more appalling in her profligacy, hatred 
and ferocity, with glittering eyes and quiv- 
ering nostri!s, the monster cried, in her 
savage ardor, “The gladiator for a lover 
and my rival for a victim ! Love and 
blood! Evohe, furies! evohe, Priapus! 
evohe, Bacchus ! Wine, wine ! Come, all 
of you, let all join in the dance — thou, my 
African Hercules ; ye, my Greek Adonises, 
and ye, my Lesbian nymphs. Wine for 
all — wine, flowers, perfumes, intoxication of 
every sort for all, and let the dawn 
find us exhausted but not satisfied.”* 
And with a frenzied gesture, the noble lady 
tore the golden net fi'om her hair and bust, 
and, shaking her black hair like a lioness 
her mane, it fell over her bosom and bare 
shoulders, and shaded her pale face, glit- 
tering with terrible beauty. At one 
draught, she emptied a large golden cup, 
and gave the signal for the orgie. The cup 
went round, and soon, to the sound of the 
lyres, flutes and cymbals, the freedmen and 
slaves, incited by wine, corruption, terror 
and the example of their infamous mistress, 
commenced a shameful dance amidst hor- 
rible songs. 

Sylvest, rendered giddy with horror, 
quitted the entablature, and, at the risk of 
being discovered and killed, glided down 
one of the columns, pursued by the frenzied 
songs of this infernal orgie, which were 
soon succeeded by a silence even more 
hideous than these delirious cries. Be- 
wildered, maddened, and forgetting all 
prudence, the slave left the accursed tem- 
ple, and was wandering at random, when a 
voice dear to his heart recalled him to him- 
self. “ Sylvest !” called this voice from the 
darkness. It was Loyse, his beloved wife, 
his wife through their sacred oaths, sworn 
in the name of the gods of their fathers, 
for the slave has no wife before man. 

Although the dawn was not far off, the 
darkness was still i)rofound. The slave 
groped toward the spot whence Loyse’s 
voice had come, and fell into her arms, un- 
able to utter a word. 

Loyse, terrified at the despair of Sylvest, 
supported him and guided his steps to a 
clump of rose-bushes and lemon-trees in 
blossom. The slave seated himself on a 
mossy bank at the foot of a marble statue. 

“Sylvest,” said his wife, anxiously, 
“ arouse yourself. Speak, what is the mat- 
ter ? tell me, I entreat you.” 

Sylvest by decrees recovered his com- 
posure, and said to his wife, clasping 
her to his heart, “ Oh ! I am born again. 
By your side I breathe a pure air ; that of 


* See Slartial’s description of the orgies of Messalina. 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


133 


yonder accursed temple is poisoned — it 
drove me mad.’’ 

“ What do you say ?” cried Loyse, terri- 
fied ; “ have you been in the temple?” 

“ I was waiting for you by the canal, our 
usual place of meeting, when I saw some 
men approaching with lanterns. To avoid 
being discovered, I climbed one of the col- 
umns of the temple, and hiding, behind the 
cornice, I witnessed fearful mysteries. I was 
seized with giddiness, and rushed from it, 
not knowing whether I was not the sport 
of a horrible vision !” 

“ No, it was not a vision,” returned the 
young woman, shuddering. “ You are 
right : horrible mysteries are celebrated in 
that temple, to which my mistress Faust- 
ina repairs only on the day consecrated to 
Venus among the Pagans. That occurred 
day before yesterday; I thought that the 
neighborhood of the temple would be de- 
serted to-night, and was surprised and ter- 
rified when, from the spinning-room where 
we work for Faustina, I saw in the distance 
the lights of the gondola floating down the 
canal on the way thither.” 

“ Having been myself detained, my be- 
loved Loyse, I expected to find you here 
long before me.” _ 

“Indeed, I came later than I wished,” 
replied the young woman with an embar- 
rassment and melancholy which struck 
Sylvest. 

“ Loyse, what has happened ?” he asked ; 
*‘your voice is sad, you sigh, and your hand 
trembles; you are concealing something 
from me.” 

“ No, no, nothing, my Sylvest. It is 
always difiBcult, as you know, for me to 
leave the spinning-room ; this evening I 
was obliged to wait long, much longer than 
usual, for a favorable opportunity.” 

“ Truly, has nothing disagreeable hap- 
pened to you ?” 

“ No, I assure you.” 

“ Loyse, my love, it seems to mo that you 
do not answer with your usual sincerity ; 
you are troubled about something.” 

“ It is because I still shudder at the risk 
you ran of being surprised in the temple.” 

“ Ah ! Loyse, I tell you it is like a 
frightful dream. Those tortures, that death, 
that sorceress, and then my sistei’ — merci- 
ful gods ! my sister, the rival of this mon- 
ster, my sister a courtesan ! Oh ! I tell you, 
I shall go mad !” 

“ Your sister the rival of Faustina ! your 
sister a courtesan ! But for eighteen years 
you have not known whether she was dead 
or living !” 

“ She is living ; she is in Orange ; she is 
known by the name of the beautiful Gaul ! 
And to crown my misfortunes, my master 
told me this morning that he was in love 
with this courtesan.” 

“ Your master. Lord Diabolus !” 


“ Yes ; you cafl judge of my anxiety, now 
that I know her to be my sister. Am 1 to 
bless this day that restores to me the com- 
panion of ray childhood, that sister whom 
I have so often wept, as you know, Loyse; 
that sister to whom my mother Ilenory gave 
as a presage of virtue the name of our an- 
cestress Siomara, the proud and chaste 
Gaul ? Am I to curse this day that tells 
me of the infamy of my sister, the court- 
esan ? Oh ! mine is the shame and grief, 
and hers the shame and contempt !” 

“ Alas ! torn when a child from ' er 
parents, and sold, as you have told me to 
infamy, she was beautiful and a slave ; n w, 
beauty in slavery is opprobrium ; it is sub- 
jugation to a master’s profligacy, ftjm 
which death alone can free you.” 

“ Stop, Loyse, you do not know the fright- 
ful thoughts that have passed through my 
mind this horrible night. I said to my- 
self, on seein" these unfortunate young 
girls, slaves like you, and beautiful like 
you — ” 

“ Beautiful like me !” replied the young 
woman, in a singular tone and with a smoth- 
ered sigh. “ Beautiful like me !” 

“No,” returned Sylvest, without observ 
ing the expression of his wife’s voice. 
“No, not so beautiful as you, Loyse, for 
they had no longer, like you, that celestial 
beauty which is free from all stain. This 
night, therefore, on seeing them so young, 
yet already so profoundly corrupted by 
slavery and the terror of punishment, I said 
to myself. What if Loyse, instead of always 
having been banished far from the presence 
of her infamous mistress and the freedmen, 
by the blessing of the gods, had fallen 
under their notice, I might, perhaps, have 
seen her too in this infernal orgio.” 

Then, shuddering at the remembrance of 
this fear, Sylvest, perceiving the dawn al- 
ready faintly illumining the distant hori- 
zon, clasped his wife in his arms, and re- 
sumed : “ Far from us be these frightful 
thoughts, my Loyse ! The day is breaking; 
but a few instants more remain to us ; let 
us not sadden them further. Let us speak 
of yourself and of this hope, at once cruel 
and sweet. You a mother ! Ah ! why must 
slavery make me utter with anguish, almost 
with tears, this word, blessed by the gods, 
mother !” 

“ My beloved husband,” returned Loyse, 
in a tearful voice, and as if rmpatient to 
abridge the conversation, “ as you say, day 
is breaking. It is a long way from here to 
Orange ; you must leave the park without 
being seen. The field-slaves will soon be 
led to their task, and their overseers may 
meet you. Go, I entreat. Farewell, fare- 
well !” 

“Loyse, a few moments longer! Wait 
at least, till the first light of the morning 
permits me to look at your dear features. 


134 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


It is so long, alas ! sinc« I have enjoyed 
this happiness, for it is only at night — al- 
ways at night — that it is possible for me to 
come to you.” 

With these words, Sylvest, tenderly clasp- 
ing his arms round his wife, who was still 
seated on the mossy bank, fell on his knees, 
took her hands, and kissed them with an 
ecstasy w'hich made him forget for a mo- 
ment the wretchedness and sorrow of the 
life of a slave. The breaking day colored 
the trees a faint pink ; the lemon-trees ex- 
haled a sweeter and more penetrating fra- 
grance in the morning dews, and thousands 
of birds began to twitter among the foliage 
at the approach of the rising sun. It was 
soon light enough for Sylvest to remark that 
hia Avifo turned aside her head and buried 
her face in her hands ; then ho saw, from 
the heaving of her bosom, that she was 
weeping and endeavoring to stifle her sobs. 

“You weep,” he cried; “you turn away 
your face from me, Loyse. ’ In the name 
of our love, speak; what is the matter? 
Ausw'er mo,” 

My love,” she replied, trying still more 
to conceal her features from her husband in 
proportion as the light increased, “ I con- 
jure you, return to your master; go, gt) this 
instant, if you love me !” 

“Go, without looking in your face; go 
without a kiss, a single last kiss ?” 

“ Yes,” she returned in a broken voice ; 
“yes, go without looking at me; I wish it, 
I implore it.” , 

“ Go witliout looking at you !” returned 
Sylvest, stupefied; “Loyse, what mesins 
this ?” And as his wife, snatching her 
other hand from her husband, completely 
hid her face, sobbing aloud in spite of her- 
self, Sylvest, alarmed, forcibly drew her 
hands away, threw himself back that ho 
might gaze at her, and uttered a shriek of 
heart-rending anguish. 

The last time that ho saw Loyse, her com- 
plexion was fairer than the lily ; her eyes, 
as blue as the heavens, Avere vailed by long 
lashes ; her charming features were of fault- 
less regularity, and when she smiled — the 
smile of a slave, full of- melancholy and 
resignation — her ruby lips wore an expres- 
sion of celestial SAveetness. 

Yes, such Avas Loyse, AA^hom Sylvest now 
beheld by the light of the rising sun — alas ! 
hoAV changed ! One of her eyes ajipeared 
entirely gone; the other, bloodshot, could 
just be discerned through the inflamed eye- 
lids, destitute of lashes ; her face was as 
burned and scarred as though it had been 
held over a fiery furnace ; her lips Avere savoI- 
len and blistered, as though she had drank 
some boiling liquid; yet, despite its hideous 
ugliness, her poor countenance still — more 
than ever perhaps — wore an expression of 
ineffable sweetness. Sylvest’s first impulse 
was to burst into a violent fit of weeping. 


as he silently gazed at his wife, Avho said, 
in a heart-rending tone : 

“ I am very ugly, am I not ?” 

The thought struck him that his wife 
had been thus tortured and disfigured by 
Faustina, whom he believed capable of any 
crime. He started up frenzietlly, and ex- 
claimed, shaking his fist at the temple : 

“ Faustina, I will kill thee ! Yes, I will 
tear thy heart out, should I be burned at a 
slow fire.” 

“ Sylvest, you are mistaken ; it was not 
she.” 

“ Who, then, has mutilated and disfigured 
you in this manner ?” 

“Myself.” 

“ You, Loyse, you ! No, no, you only wish 
to soothe my anger.” 

“ It Avas I, I tell you. I swear it to you, 
my Sylvest, I swear it to you by the child 
that I bear in my bosom.” 

“ What can I do before such an oath but 
blindly believe this horrible mystery.” 

“ Listen, Sylvest,” resumed Loyse. “ We 
slaves Avho spin in the factory are in build- 
ings distant from the palace of Faustina, 
and never see either her or her freedmen, as 
cruel and corrupt as herself. This morning 
a fatal chance brought to the spinning-room 
our mistress’s favorite slave, an Ethiopian.” 

“ I saw him to-night !” 

“ He crossed the courtyard just as I was 
spreading out the linen that Ave had woven 
to bleach in the sun. He stopped in front 
of me, fixed his eyes on my face, and ad- 
dressed me insultingly. I Avept ; he laughed 
at my tears, and said to the woman that 
oversees us, ‘ Bring this slave to the palace.’ 
The overseer answered that she Avoiild obey ; 
whereupon the negro added that if I refused 
to go thither willingly, I must be drag- 
ged by force.” 

“The day of vengeance must come; and 
it Avill be terrible, terrible ! ’ 

“ Sylvest, I am not, as you know, like 
most of our unhappy companions, the 
daughter of a slave and corrupted by force 
from my birth. I Avas fifteen years old 
Avhen I Avas made a prisoner by the Ho- 
mans at the siege of Paris, defended by old 
Camulogenus, and was sold to a slave-dealer, 
after seeing my father valiantly perish in 
battle. I Avas brought to this country, and 
sold to the superintendent of Faustina’s 
factories. I have preserved the pride of my 
race, Avhich I imbibed with my mother’s 
milk. Had you alone been in question, my 
Syhest, I should this morning, like a true 
Gaul, have escaped the shame of inevitable 
outrage by death, sure of living honored in 
your memorjq and of being praised by your 
mother Ileuory, whom I should have re- 
joined in another world Avith my own kin- 
dred. But I am a mother ; I bear in my 
bosom the fruit of our love. Whether 
through weakness or good judgment, I did 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


135 


not wish to die; but I wished to rmid the 
outrage with which I was threateuod. For 
this reason, therefore, before coming hero — 
and it was this that delayed me — I made my 
way into the dye-room, and, arming my- 
self with courage, my Sylvest, by the thought 
of you, of our child, and of the outrage 
that threatened me, I poured some corrosive 
liquid into a basin and plunged my face 
therein. Is your wife worthy of your 
mother added she, with a lofty gesture. 

“O Loyse!’’ exclaimed Sylvest, falling 
on his knees in adoration before this proud 
and courageous being, “ thou art now more 
than beautiful in my eyes : thou art a saint 
— a saint like our ancestress Hena, the vir- 
gin of the Isle of Sena — a saint like our 
ancestress Siomara F’ 

“ Sylvest,’’ said Loyse, starting up and 
listening in terror, “ hush ! I hoar footsteps 
and the clanking of chains. Woe to us! 
you will be surprised here. We have for- 
gotten that it is broad daylight. Woe to 
us !” 

“ Your mistress, perhaps ?” 

“ No, she must have returned to the pal- 
ace by the way of the canal.” 

“ Who is coming, then ?” 

“ The field slaves are on their way to the 
farm. You are lost.” 

Loyse had scarcely uttered these words 
when the husband and wife were discovered 
among the rose-trees by three armed men, 
with long whips in their hands; followed 
a few paces off by a troop of slaves, chained 
in couples, with their heads shaven and 
dressed in rags, some carrying farming im- 
plements, and others harnessed to carts. At 
the sight of Sylvest and his wife, the three 
^ overseers rushed forward, the slaves stop- 
ped, and the spouses were surrounded by 
the armed men. 

“ What are you doing here ?” said one of 
the overseers, raising his whip against 
Loyse, while the two others threw them- 
selves on Sylvest, who, being unarmed, nei- 
ther was able nor wished to resist. 

“ I am one of the factory slaves,” an- 
swered Loyse, while Sylvest trembled for 
his wife. 

“ You lie,” said the overseer, looking with 
disgust at the repulsive countenance of poor 
Loyse. “ I often go to the factory, and if 
there had been such a monster as you 
among the slaves at work there, I should 
have noticed her.” 

“ Read my name on my collar,” replied 
the wife of Sylvest, pointing to her neck. 
The overseer read aloud, “Loyse is the 
slave of Faustina, the patrician,” and start- 
ed w'ith surprise. “You Loyse!” he ex- 
claimed, “you, whose beauty I remarked 
day before yesterday, on passing through 
the factory? Speak, gallows-bird! who 
nas disfigured you in this manner ? Is it 
sorcery or enchantment? Have you imi- 


tated those wretches that mutilate them- 
selves in order to spite their masters by 
lessening their value ? Perhaps you would 
like to finish this fine piece of work by 
rushing among the wild beasts at the circus, 
like other still more malicious villains, with 
the wicked design of destroying in your 
person the property of our mistress !* O 
you wretch ! this is your own doing ; you 
nave maliciously destroyed three-fourths 
of your value, to the injury of our honored 
mistress, for now no one would want such a 
monster as you, except as a scare-crow for 
children ! Oh ! you have had the audacity 
to disfigure yourself in this manner — you, 
one of the most beautiful of our mistress’s 
slaves — you, who could have been sold not 
only as a good worker, but as a first-class 
fancy slave ! 0 you Avreteh ! March be- 
fore me ; you shall be well flogged ; and, 
by Pollux ! I will toll the executioner to 
put new thongs to his whip.” 

Loyse cast an angelic look on Sylvest, 
which calmed the frenzied rage which had 
been roused in bis heart by the overseer’s 
insults and threats, and tranquilly replied, 
“ No, you will not ill-treat me.” 

“ And what will prevent me, my delight 
of the switch ?” 

“ Your mistress’s interest. I am a moth- 
er. By whipping the mother you kill the 
child. Now, the child is property; it grows 
in value, and can be sold.” 

“ You a mother ! The old song. These 
brazen wenches are always mothers when 
there is any danger of having their skin 
black and blue. But the matron of the 
child-bearing slaves will soon tell whether 
you lie.” Then, turning to Sylvest, who 
was still held by the other two overseers, 
he said, “And what are you doing here, 
my prison-pillar ? To whom do you be- 
long, my delight of the stirrup-leather ?‘’f 

“ His name is Sylvest ; he belongs to 
Lord Diabolus, a noble Roman of Orange,” 
answ^ered one of the overseers, reading the 
inscription on the collar abound his neck, 

“ Ah ! you belong to Lord Diabolus,” re- 
sumed the overseer ; “ I see by your livery 
that you are a house-slave.” 

“Yes.” ■ 

“ And how did you make your way into 
this park ?” 

“ By climbing over the wall.” 

“ To try to steal something — eh, gallows- 
bird ?” 

“ To see my wife,” and he glanced toward 
Loyse. 

“Whom ? Your wife ! your wife ! By 


• The slaves, to escape their horrible fate, often ruslK: J 
among the wild animais at the circus. 

t“The punishmeDts and tortures inflicted on the 
slaves were as numerous as varied,” saj-s Plautus. 
“ These unfortunates were familiarly called by the namei 
of the punishments they endured, such as gymnasts o' 
the switch, prison, pillars, chain-bearers, delight of thr 
stirrup-leather, etc.” 


136 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


Hercules ! this is a bold aud pleasant ras- 
cal. To see his wife ! As if slaves had 
wives — as if there were any marriage 
among them. Your wife ! as well might 
the ass say to his mate, my Avife ! It is a 
lucky thing for your shoulders that Lord 
Diabolus is a friend of our honored mistress; 
politeness requires the patricians to leave 
to each other the punishment of their own 
slaves. You will be taken back to your 
master, and I hope that lie will pay you as 
you deserve. Our slaves are at work just 
noAv in the fields by the gates of Orange ; 
you Avill be chained between two of them 
and taken to Lord Diabolus.” 

“ It is useless to chain me ; I will not 
escape ; I will return to my master volun- 
tarily,” replied Sylvest. He spoke the 
truth ; but the overseer did not believe 
him, and chained him between two field- 
slaves of Spanish birth. 

At the moment of separating from his 
wife, Sylvest said to her, in Gallic, that the 
overseers might not understand him, “ Meet 
me at the next moon, by the walls of the 
park, at the ‘left of the canal. Whatever 
may happen, unless I am dead, I will be 
there. Farewell, ray adored wife, ray saint ; 
think of our child.” 

“ Think of yourself,” ansvrered Loyse ; 
“ think of us, my Sylvest.” 

“ Enough of this barbarous jargon, fit 
only to conceal some evil design,” said the 
overseer roughly, pushing Loyse before him 
to take her back to the factory, while Syl- 
vest Avas conducted to Orange. 

Among the slaves of Faustina in the 
midst of whom Sylvest Avalked, chained be- 
tween two Spaniards, were several Gauls. 
He soon perceived that he was not the only 
one of the band that had been present the 
night before at the secret meeting of the 
Children of the Mistletoe, for, just as the 
overseers moved aAAmy, he heard tAvo robust 
slaves, Avho were harnessed to a cart not far 
from liim, hum, as they painfully drew 
their heavy load, “ Flow, fioAV, blood of the 
captive ! Fall, fall, ensanguined deAv !” 

Sylvest answered in a Ioav voice, from the 
song of tlie bard, “Take root and grow, 
avenging harvest!” 

This song had been improvised the night 
before in the cavern of the desert valley. 
The tAvo slaves, recognizing Sylvest as a 
Child of the Mistletoe, exchanged a glance 
of intelligence Avith him, and all three 
hummed the last lines of the bard, clank- 
ing their chains in a sinister measure : “ It 
is lime, 0 reaper ! sharpen thy Gallic scythe.” 

The overseers approached, aud the three 
Gauls were silent. They soon reached the 
gates of the town of Orange ; and Avhile the 
slaves were led to their Avork by one of the 
overseers, the other made Sylvest Avalk be- 
fore him on his Avay to the house of his 
master. Lord Diabolus. 


CHAPTER HI.' 

Lord Diabolus. — The porter, Camus.— Tile cook, Four- 
spices. — Lord Norbiac. — The lovers of the beautiful 
Gaul. — Visit of Sylvest to the house of Siomara. — he 
eunuch. — The prodigies. — The magician. — Belphegor. 

Sylvest had for a master Lord Diabolus, 
the descendant of a noble Roman family 
that had settled in Provencal Gaul, con- 
quered nearly two centuries before by 
the Romans, and thus become New 
Italy. Young, dissipated, profligate and 
idle, like all the men of noble birth, 
ho would have thought himself dishon- 
ored by labor* and he borrowed of the 
usurers, while impatiently awaiting the 
death of his father, Lord Claudius, a rich 
man, whose large income arose from the 
labor of two or three thousand slaves, 
mechanics of all kinds, whom ho hired out 
by the day to contractors. The latter, in 
turn, made the most of these unfortunates, 
so that their labor thus produced at once 
a large revenue for their master and a profit 
for the contractor, who, being obliged to 
support the slaves, left them almost naked, 
and gave them insufficient food, which the 
brutes would have refused. Overburdened 
with labor and exhausted with hunger and 
fatigue, if the slave felt his strength fail 
him, the contractor roused him with the 
whip or the goadf and often furrowed his 
back with red-hot rods; these, however, 
were trifling penalties, for escape, refusal 
to work, or rebellion Avas punished by chas- 
tisements as atrocious as varied, beginning 
with torture and ending with death. 

Sylvest, on being taken back to his mas- 
ter, Lord Diabolus, expected severe punish- 
ment. After being absent all night with- 
out permission, he returned at a late hour 
in the morning, thus neglecting all his 
domestic duties, for he was his master’s 
body-servant. This kind of servitude, 
which was less laborious, perhaps, but often 
more painful, than that of the mechanic or 
field-hand, had fallen to his lot in conse- 
quence of various events which folloAvcd 
the horrible death of his father, Guilhern, 
which will be hereafter described. Yes, ho 
had submitted to this servile position, ho of 
a free and noble race, he, the grandson of 
the brenn of Karnak, even preferring this 
kind of slavery, because ho knew that, on 
the great day of justice and deliverance, 
the Gauls employed in the towns and 


* The noble Romans professed the most thirough 
contempt for labor, but they lived sumptuously on ttie 
iruit of the labors of their slaves. “ Cra'sus, who de- 
signed to make a fortune,” says Plautus, “ had a multi- 
tude of slaves, who were taught by his orders 1 11 kinds 
of mechanical trades, and who brought him an immense 
revenue, while their only profit was what they stole.’-' 
Such is the moral of slavery ; such what it makes oJ 
man. 

t “The goad,” says Naudet, “was a stick pointed 
with iron, which was heated red hot and applied to dif- 
ferent parts of the body.” 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


137 


houses would be able more effectually to 
aid the rebellion against the Romans. 

Compelled to have recourse to stratagem 
till he could successfully employ force, 
Sylvest, like many others among his com- 
panions, concealed his hatred of oppression 
and liis love of liberty under an humble and 
mirthful mask, for, with his master, he 
always had some witty saying ready — yes, 
he played the jester, the trusty servant, the 
audacious valet, and rejoiced at the odious 
tastes of his cruel and perverse master, 
happy in the thought that his unfeeling and 
wicked soul would be lost in this world, to 
be born anew more and more unhappy in 
future states of existence. This aided 
Sylvest in patiently awaiting the hour of 
vengeance. 

0 my son ! thou for whom I write this 
story, in obedience to my father’s commands, 
as he had done in obedience to his father, 
thou wilt pardon my cowardly dissimu- 
lation and execrate them who forced mo to 
it. Alas ! the time to break our chains and 
fight openly like our ancestors had not yet 
come ; moreover, my child, however heroic 
may be the character of a race, the pesti- 
lential air of slavery always deteriorates it. 
You will see in these narratives how our 
ancestress, Margarid, and the other women 
of our family, slew their children and after- 
ward themselves in their unconquerable 
horror of slavery. My father, Guilhern, 
though a man of mature age, resigned him- 
self till his death, chiefly through affection 
for me, it is true, to a servitude which his 
father Joel would not have endured a sin- 
gle day. No, at the first opportunity, he 
would have killed first his son and then 
himself. In the same manner, my father, 
always sullen and ferocious, like a chained 
wolf, could not have acted a part in slavery 
as I do. Perhaps, lastly, ray poor child, 
condemned to servitude from thy birth — 
perhaps if our liberties are not reconquered 
during thy life-time, thou wilt again de- 
generate more than myself from that proud 
hatred of subjugation which was one of the 
manljr virtues of our ancestors. Neverthe- 
less, it is with the hope that their example 
may give thee strength to struggle against 
this degradation that I bequeath to thee 
these pious family narratives. 

Sylvest was brought back, therefore, in 
the morning to his master. Lord Diabolus 
lived in a beautiful house in the town of 
Orange, not far from the amphitheatre where 
the gladiators fought, and where slaves were 
sometimes thrown to the wild beasts. The 
porter, clad in a green livery — his master’s 
color — was chained, as usual, by the neck, 
in the vestibule, like a watch-dog.* Hav- 


* The porters were chained like watch dogs. “In 
the Tcstibule itself,” says Petronius, “ stood the porter, 
chained like a dog ; he was dressed in green, with a 
cherry -colored girdle, and was shelling peas in a siltcr 


ing twice attempted to escape, he had been 
punished with the loss of his ears and nose, 
which gave him a hideous appearance. In 
the place of the nose, nothing was to be 
seen but two holes, which served him to 
breathe, and on his shaven brow were 
two letters branded on the living flesh with 
a hot iron — a Roman F and a Greek 0.* 
He was an Auyergnese Gaul, and was al- 
ways sullen and dejected. Lord Diabolus 
had at first named him Cerberus, on ac- 
count of his office of porter ; but when he 
cut off his nose, ho christened him Camus 
in derision. Ilis chain was long enough to 
permit him to open the door. lie admitted 
Sylvest and the overseer, the latter having 
rapped with the bronze knocker represent- 
ing an obscene figure. 

The slave-cook, named Fourspices, issued 
from a corridor and entered the vestibule 
at the same instant as Sylvest and the over- 
seer. Fourspices, having once escaped from 
one of his masters, had had his right foot 
cut off, and walked on a wooden leg. lie 
was Swiss by birth, and endured suffering 
with unshaken firmness. One day. Lord 
Diabolus, having procured a gray mullet 
from Italy at the cost of two hundred aurei, 
invited his friends to eat this delicate and 
expensive dish. The mullet was badly 
cooked. Diabolus, in his rage, sent for 
Fourspices, ordered him to be bound to a 
bench in the presence of his guests, and 
compelled the assistant-cook, under the 
threat of like treatment, to lard his spine 
with bacon by means of larding-pins.f 
Fourspices did not utter a groan, and in 
future his repasts were even more exquisite 
than usual. Two months after his punish- 
ment, however, he told Sylvest and the 
other slaves that on that day, which was a 
great festival, all the dishes would be 
poisoned. Sylvest, thinking thi.s vengeance 
cowardly ana atrocious, despite Lord Diab- 
olus’s cruelty, with difficulty dissuaded 
Fourspices from this deed by telling him 
that, perhaps, the hour for rebellion would 
soon come ; which induced the cook to bo 
patient. 

“ 0 my poor comrade 1” said Fourspices 
to Sylvest, on perceiving him ; “ a lamprey 
skinned alive will not bo rawer and more 
bloody than your back directly. Master is 


dish; above the threshold hung a cage containing a 
magpie, which saluted all who entered wi.h his cries.” 
Other precautions, even more horrible and degrading, 
were taken. “ For the slaves who were bakers,” says 
Pollux, “ a machine waa invented in the form of a 
wheel, which was passed round the slave’s neck to pre- 
vent him from raising his hand to his mouth to eat the 
dough.” Anaxarchus muzzled the slave that made his 
bread. In order that he might not pollute it with his 
breath. 

♦“Then Eumolpus, with a practiced hand, covered 
the whole face with the letters which are usually branded 
with a hot iron on fiigitiveslaves.” — Petronius, Satires, 
vol. ii., p. 79. These letters were a Greek 0 and a 
Latin F. 

t Se? Dfsobry : TAe Romans in the Augustan Age. 


138 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


furious ; I never saw him in such a rage. 
If you had been willing, do you see^^ — 
and he stealthily made a gesture as if 
taking a pinch of powder between his 
thumb and finger, in token of his plan of 
poisoning. Sylvest, certain in advance of 
the fate that awaited him, said to the over- 
seer, “ Follow me, I will show you to my 
master’s room.^’ 

They entered the chamber of Lord Diab- 
olus, who was in his dressing-gown. At 
the sight of his slave, he turned pale with 
rage, and, shaking his fist at him, exclaim- 
ed, before the overseer had uttered a word, 
“ Oh ! here you are at last, wretch ! By 
Pollux ! I will not leave an inch of flesh on 
your shoulders or a nail on your hands. I 
came home last night royally drunk, and 
there was no one to carry me to bed. This 
morning, there was no one to put on my 
shoes, dress me, comb and curl my hair, and 
shave me. Where have you been, infamous 
knave 

“ My lord,” said the overseer, “ we sur- 
prised this vagabond at day-break this 
morning in the park adjoining the villa of 
my honored mistress, Faustina. He was 
there with one of the female slaves of the 
house. Instead of punishing the wretch, 
we brought him hither, having been taught 
the courtesies by our honored mistress that 
are due from one patrician to another.” 

“ Here, this is for yourself,” said Diabolus, 
giving the overseer a piece of silver. 

“ Salute Faustina in the name of Diabolus, 
and assure her that this knave shall bo pun- 
ished as he deserves for having had the 
audacity to enter the park of this noble lady.” 

The overseer went out. Sylvest remained 
alone with his master. 

“ So, gallows-bird,” cried Diabolus, “ you 
roam abroad at night outside the city gates, 
to mate with a — ” 

“ That’s the way ■ risk the strap, the 
goad, and death itself perhaps in your mas- 
ter’s service, and such is the reward you 
get for it !” boldly interrupted Sylvest. 

“ What ! scoundrel, do you dare — ” 

“ Lose your sleep, tire yourself out, and 
this is the way you are received !” 

“ By Hercules ! am I waking or dream- 
ing ?” 

“ Oh ! my lord, you do not deserve to have 
such a slave as I.” 

“ There again, he is reproving me.” 

“ But in future I will not be fool enough 
to wear myself cut to serve you.” 

“ And I have no cudgel here,” resumed 
Diabolus, looking around him, stupefied at 
the continued efirontery of his slave. 

“ What ! was it to serve me that you were 
courting one of your kind, a league from 
here ?” 

“ Do you think it was for myself?” 

“ Impudent rascal ! So it was for me 
that — ” 


“All masters are ungrateful, I tell you.’^ 

“ This wretcli is pretending to be mad to 
escape the punishment he deserves !” 

“ I mad ! I was never more sane in ray 
life. Listen, my lord, what did you say to 
me yesterday morning ?” 

“Yesterday morning?’ 

“ Yes, my lord. Did you not say, ‘ Ah ! 
my dear Sylvest’ — for when you need me, 
then I am your dear Sylvest !” 

“By Jupiter! this is insolent enough. 
Shall I ever find sticks enough to break 
across your shoulders 1” 

“ ‘ Ah ! my dear Sylvest,’ you said, ‘ night 
and day I am dreaming of the wonderful 
beauty of the courtesan from Italy, called 
the beautiful Gaul, that has lately arrived at 
Orange. I have only seen her once, at the 
amphitheatre, at the last combat of the glad- 
iators ; yet I dote on her. But it would need a 
bridge of gold to reach her, and my torment- 
or of a father, my sordid, avaricious, pinch- 
penny of a father, will not die, the traitor I’ 
Pardon me, master, for speaking in this way 
of Lord Claudius ; but I am repeating your 
own words.” 

“ What, impudent babbler 1 AYould you 
persuade me that your last night’s expedi- 
tion to court one of Faustina’s slaves has 
the slightest connection with my love for 
the beautiful Gaul ?” 

“ Yes, indeed.” 

“ You dare — ” 

“ To tell the truth, my lord.” 

“ By Hercules ! this is carrying the jest 
too far. Mark me, do you know a certain 
plank, furnished with screws, weights and 
pulleys ?” 

“Yes, I know it perfectly well, I have 
tried it. You are first stretched on the up- 
right plank with your hands bound above 
your head ; next, a heavy weight is fastened 
to your feet; then, by means of an ingenious 
windlass, the cord which binds your hands 
is violently stretched, whence it follows 
that, the weight on your feet weighing you 
down in its turn, all your limbs are dislo- 
cated ; so that in the end you gain an inch 
or so in height.”* 

“ You would have become a giant, saucy 
varlet, if you had gained but the twelfth of 
an inch every time that you had been bound 
to this plank for your tricks. But I will 
have you stretched on it this instant if you 
do not prove to me what connection there 
is between your flight and the beautiful 
Gaul. Do you understand me ?” 

“ My lord, nothing can be plainer.” 

“Take care!” 

“ Did you not add, my lord, when speak- 
ing of the beautiful Gaul, ‘ Ah I my dear 
Sylvest, if you could but invent some means 


* “ When a hundred -pound weight is tied to your feet, 
and your wrists are handcuffed and fastened topuUeys.” 
— Plautus, Asinarius. 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


1S9 


by which I can approach this star of beau- 
ty?’'^ 

“ But, wretch, what ig there in common 
between her and the slave of Faustina 
“ A little patience, my lord. Now I, hav- 
ing but one thought, that of serving my 
master, who, however, rewards me so ill for 
my zeal — " 

“ Again 

“ A happy chance reminded me that a 
slave from my province, a spinner in the 
factory of the noble Faustina, had spoken 
to me a few days or rather nights ago, for, 
my lord, when you go to those festivals 
which last two days and three nights, you 
sometimes permit me to dispose of my time 
for a few hours — 

“ For which I am well paid,^^ interrupted 
Diabolus, singularly soothed by the name of 
the beautiful Gaul. “ Go on, knave.^’ 

“ I remembered then that this slave had 
said something about this beautiful Gaul, 
our fellow-countrywoman, but not knowing 
that it could be of interest to you, my lord, 
I had not paid much attention to her words. 
Blit after your conversation of yesterday 
morning, what she had said returned to my 
mind. I was almost certain of meeting the 
slave at the place where she often goes to 
wait for me at all hazards, and relying on 
being here before you, my lord, I hastened 
to the villa of the noble Faustina, where I 
found the slave and talked with her about 
the beautiful Gaul. Ah ! my lord — 

“ What ? Finish.^’ 

“ If you knew what I learned 
“ Will you finish, gallows-bird 
“ The beautiful Gaul is my sister.’^ 

“ Your sister !” 

“ Y'es, my lord.” 

“Tour sister! You lie! You think to 
escape tlie lash by bringing me this tale.” 

“My lord, I tell you the truth. The 
beautiful Gaul must be about twenty-sis 
years old ; she is, like me, from Breton 
Gaul, where she was bought, when a child, 
after the battle of Vannes, by the rich old 
Lord Tr^ malciou.” 

“ Indeed, Trymalcion, who died long ago, 
is still renowned in Italy for the magnifi- 
cence and great originality of his debauch- 
ery. What! Can it be possible that the 
beautiful Gaul is your sister ?” returned 
Diabolus, having wholly forgotten his an- 
ger. “ She your sister !” 

Sylvest, although it cost him much to 
speak of his wife and sister with this seem- 
ing levity, had resigned himself to this 
stratagem in order to carry out his plans. 
Ilis'conversation ,with his master was inter- 
rupted by the arrival of a friend of Diabo- 
lus, a rich young Gaul from Gascony, by 
the name of Norbiac, the son of one of 
those traitors who supported the Roman 
Conquest. 

Diabolus was celebrated for his profli- 


gacy,_ his debts, and his mistresses ; Lord 
Norbiac took him as his model, striving to 
imitate his insolence, his depravity, and 
even the cut of his garments; for these 
degenerate Gauls, abjuring their costumes, 
language, and gods, were vain of servilely 
copying the manners and customs as well 
as the vices of the Romans. 

After exchanging a few friendly greet- 
ings, Sylvest’s master said to the young 
Gaul, “ You will allow me, Norbiac, to be 
shaved before you ; I am very late with my 
toilette this morning, thanks to this knave,” 
pointing to Sylvest, “ whom I was about to 
fiog soundly when you entered.” 

“ I knocked down one of my slaves this 
morning,” answered Norbiac, puffing out 
his cheeks. “ It is the only way to treat 
these animals.” 

Sylvest set about shaving Diabolus. Ev- 
ery time that the slave held his niaster^s 
throat in his grasp and passed the blade of 
the razor over it, he ashed himself, with an 
astonishment that was always new, whether 
it was through excessive confidence in his 
slaves or excessive contempt for them that 
an often ruthless master thus daily put his 
life at their mercy; he, however, would 
have been incapable of avenging himself 
by so cowardly a murder. While he shaved 
Diabolus, the latter continued his conversa- 
tion with Norbiac. 

“I coma to bring you bad news, and to 
ask you a favor, my dear Diabolus,” said 
the young Gaul. 

“ Let us first get the bad news oif our 
hands, and then speak of the service that I 
can render you. Trouble before pleasure.” 

“ 0 my friend ! there is nobody like you 
Romans for polite speeches. ‘ Trouble be- 
fore pleasure !’ ” repeated Norbiac, with a 
delighted air. “ What barbarians wo are 
compared with you, we of the coarse and 
savage Gallic race ! Well, so be it; let us 
get the bad news off our hands.” 

“ W'hat is it ?” 

“ I have just learned from One of my 
friends, who is lately from Central Gaul, that 
our brave Roman army has set out, alas ! on 
its return to Italy.” 

“ You say our ])rave army — ^you conquered 
Gauls,” returned Diabolus, laughing. “ This 
is being of a peaceful disposition.” 

“ Certainly, our bravo Roman army ; and 
is it not, indeed, our bravo army, our dear 
army, our well-beloved army, the protector 
of our safety aud our pleasures ? Let it 
depart, as Octavius Augnaius has ordered, 
and what shall wo see ? Disturbances 
springing up anew — the wretched popula- 
tion of Western and Central Gaul, with 
great difficulty repressed, attempting to rise 
again at the voice of their abominable 
Druids. Then new Chiefs of the Iluui ed 
Valleys, new Ambiorixes and new Dra- 
peses, will rise from the earth, for the more 


140 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


of these mad beasts are killed, the more 
spring up anew; the rebellion will gain 
ground and reach here, and then, I ask 
you, what will become of our pleasures, our 
mad orgies, our feasts lasting from sun to 
sun ?” 

“ Don’t he alarmed, Norhiac. Octavius 
Augustus knows what ho is about ; if he 
withdraws the Roman army from Central 
and Western Gaul, it is because he is cer- 
tain that all thought of rebellion is extinct 
among your barbarous countrymen. Ah ! 
they have been so often and so rudely chas- 
tised by the great Caesar that they have 
been forced to abandon their ridiculous 
ideas of independence. And then, do you 
see, with a good iron yoke, a sharp goad, 
and a heavy cart behind them, and with 
little sleep and less food besides, the most 
savage bulls are tamed in the long run,” 

“ The gods hear you, my dear Diabolus ! 
Nevertheless, I am still uneasy. If you but 
knew to what lengths these brutes can be 
led by the insipid words. Liberty and inde- 
pendence ! Now, I ask, in what way you 
Romans have oppressed us since we hav© 
been conquered by you ? Do you render 
our wine less generous, our mistresses less 
beautiful, our repasts less delicious, our 
horses less fiery, our apparel less splendid ? 
Because we are Roman subjects, instead of 
being independent Gauls, as these ferocious 
beasts say, do we dine with less appetite ? 
We pay heavy taxes — agreed ; but what is 
the tax to us nobles — a mite from our super- 
fluity ! But wo are governed by foreigners, 
as they say again ! Well, where is the 
harm ? At least, wo enjoy in peace what 
is left us. If we revolt, on the contrary, 
what do we gain by it, except the risk of 
either losing our lives or being dragged 
into slavery? For my part, when I see 
Gauls slaves, I say to them, ‘ So much the 
better, you fools ; you see whither the love 
of liberty leads you !’ My father believed 
in no such nonsense ; he sold his property, 
and settled in this smiling Provence, under 
the protection of the Romans, where he 
lived, and where I live, happy.” 

“ And instead of worshiping your 
gloomy and barbarous divinities, my dear 
Norbiae,” returned Diabolus, laughing, 
“you adore the merry Bacchus, with his 
green vine-branches, the stalwart Priapus, 
the graceful Ganymede, and Venus Aphro- 
dite, the goddess of easy amours.” 

“ Hold! Diabolus, I am doubly ashamed 
of being a Gaul when I think that, for in- 
numerable ages, my fathers were barbarous 
and stupid enough to bow before tliose 
frowning deities who taught them how to 
die — to die with pride. By Bacchus and 
Venus ! your smiling gods, what wo should 
learn is how to live — to live joyously ; and 
in the profession and practice of a joyous 
life, I bow before you, noble Romans, as an 


humble pupil ; for if you rule the world by 
arms, you subjugate it by pleasure,” added 
Norbiae, seeming greatly elated at his own 
wit. “ But now that I have told you my 
bad news, though I do not share your se- 
curity, I come to the service which I have 
to ask of you.” 

“ A word, my dear Norbiae. You are a 
neighbor of Junius ; do you know how his 
daughter, the beautiful Lydia, is ?” 

“ She is dead, ray dear Diabolus ; she 
died this morning at daybreak.” 

“That is what I feared, for yesterday 
morning there was little hope of saving 
her.” 

“ Poor young girl ! A vestal could not 
have been chaster, they say.” 

“ For which reason, she excited as much 
admiration as curiosity, for vestals are rare 
at Orange, my dear Norbiae. Ah ! the 
watchers at Lydia’s tomb will have a hard 
task to-night.” 

“ Why ?” 

“ Are you ignorant that the sorceresses 
are constantly prowling about the tombs, 
in order to carry thence some human relic 
for their enchantments ?”* 

“ Indeed, I have heard say so.” 

“ And it appears that the body of a young 
virgin is especially valuable for their sor- 
ceries ; therefore, as few women die vestals 
at Orange, as you just remfirked, the watch- 
ers at Lydia’s tomb will have to guard 
against the attacks of the sorceresses, Ju- 
nius is one of my friends. lie will be in- 
consolable for his daughter’s death. May 
Bacchus and Venus come to his aid ! And 
now, my dear Norbiae, tell me what serv- 
ice I can render you, and dispose of me as 
you please.” 

“Your charming poet Ovid has just writ- 
ten the Art of Love ; hut what is the art of 
loving without the art of pleasing ?” And 
Norbiae smiled again complacently at his 
own wit. “ Now I humbly acknowledge 
you a finished master in the art of pleasing, 
my dear Diabolus, therefore I, a Gallic bar- 
barian, come to you for counsel.” 

“ Are you in love ?”. 

“ Passionately, desperately, madly.” 

“ With a woman ?” 

“What!” said Norbiae, surprised; then, 
recollecting himself, he replied, laughing, 
“ What a novice I am still I Yes, I am in 
love with a woman — and you will laugh at 
the lowness of my tastes — I love a court- 
esan.” 

“ The beautiful Gaul, perhaps ?” 

“ Whence comes your astonishment, Diab- 
olus ? Are you, too, in love with her ?” 

“ I ! By Hercules 1 I care as much for 


* “ You who keep watch over the tombs must always 
be on the alert, for these cursed sorceresses transform 
themselres into all sorts of animals, and glide about in 
secret in such a manner as even to deceive the eye of the 
sun.’’ — Apuleius, The Metamorphosis. 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


141 


the beautiful Gaul as I do for this knave, 
who never was so long in shaving me, and 
who will he flogged soundly if ho does not 
make haste. Will you ever finish, rascal 

“ My lord, you move about so much while 
talking that I am afraid of cutting you,” 
said Sylvest. 

“ Be guilty of such a piece of awkward- 
ness, and I warn you, for the slightest 
scratch on my chin, a |.iece of flesh will be 
cut from your back. You were' saying, my 
dear Norbiac, that you are madly in love 
with the beautiful Gaul. Without sharing 
our taste, I approve of it, for, by Venus ! 
er goddess, it would be impossible to be 
more charming. But what stops you ? 
You are rich, very rich ; you have a golden 
key; Jupiter made use of it to gain access 
to Dauaj; follow his example.” 

“ How much this example proves the su- 
periority of your gods over ours! These 
divine lessons are not found among our 
stern deities. But, alas ! the golden key is 
of no use in entering the house of the beau- 
tiful Gaul.” 

“ What I a courtesan !” 

“ Don’t you know, then, my dear Diabolus, 
that she is not a common courtesan ?” 

“ And how does she differ from the rest 
of the tribe?” 

“ V astly and in many ways. In the first 
place, you know that as soon as a celebrated 
courtesan enters the town, those worthy old 
hags, of whom your obliging Mercury is the 
patron — another amiable god — ” 

“ They all are, except Pluto ; and he also 
amuses himself at times in ruffling the 
Fates.” 

“I say, therefore, that immediately on 
the arrival of a new courtesan, these worthy 
old hags, of whom we were speaking, re- 
pair to her to offer her their services.” 

“ Doubtless, just as pilots offer their serv- 
ices to the captains entering the harbor; 
it is the law of trade.” 

“ Well, not only have these hags been de- 
nied access to the beautiful Gaul, but they 
have been abruptly received and rudely 
shown the door by an old eunuch, as sav- 
age as Cerberus.” 

“ Hem ! this begins to be ominous for you, 
my dear Norbiac.” 

“ That is not all ; for you must know that 
I have half a score of spies in the field.” 

“ A good precaution.” 

“ The beautiful Gaul lives in a cottage 
near the temple of Diana ; my spies have 
not taken their eyes off her dwelling since 
the day that I saw her at the amphitheatre, 
where she made so great a sensation.” 

“ It is true, I was there. You say, my 
dear Norbiac, that your spies — ” 

“ Have been on the watch, by turns, night 
and day, and, save two servant-girls, they 
have seen no one enter the house of the 
Gaul. 1 know not how many letters, char- 


iots and horsemen have stopped at her door, 
b'’.t the old eunuch, with his savage coun- 
tenance, has always sent them away without 
listening to a word.” 

“ Then what has she come to Orange for ?” 

“That is what every one asks. At last, 
day before yesterday, some young nobles, 
thinking this shyness of the beautiful Gaul 
a piece of impertinence — but you have 
doubtless heard of the adventure ?” 

“ No, by liercules I Go on.” 

“These young nobles, accompanied by 
several slaves, armed with axes and crow- 
bars, ordered these varlets to break open 
the door.” 

“ By the valor of Mars ! a regular as- 
sault !” 

“ The assault was as useless as the other 
attempts had been, for, thanks to some se- 
cret intelligence, the p”efect of the town 
was almost instantly informed that the 
courtesan’s house was besieged, and sent a 
centurion and a baud of soldiers to her aid. 
In spite of the rank of the young nobles, 
two of them were arrested and sent to the 
praetorian prison.” 

Sylvest had prolonged his duties as much 
as possible in order to listen to this conver- 
sation, which deeply interested him; fearing, 
however, to awaken the suspicious of his 
master, he was about to leave the room 
when Diabolus ordered him to remain ; then 
addressing Norbiac, he said: 

“ I commanded this knave to stay because 
he can be of service to us.” 

“ What ! this slave !” exclaimed Norbiac. 

“ I will explain myself directly. Pro- 
ceed.” 

Sylvest took his stand in a corner of the 
room, at once pleased and surprised at his 
master’s order. 

Norbiac continued, “I have scarcely any- 
thing more to tell you, my dear Diabolus, 
except that I went in person to brave this 
Cerberus, an old eunuch with a pallid face 
and as large as a hogshead, and offered him 
five hundred aurei for himself, if ho would 
only listen to me.” 

“ By Plutus 1 that was speaking, and, 
above all, acting like a sensible man. VYell, 
did the eunuch open his ears ?” 

“lie answered me in some barbarous 
tongue, I know not what, half Eoman — 

“And half Gallic, perhaps ?” said Diabo- 
lus, sarcastically. 

“ Probably ; for, the gods be thanked, I 
have almost forgotten the little taught me 
by my nurse of this rude language ; but, in 
fine, I understood the eunuch well enough to 
bo certain that all my offers would be in 
vain. Now, my dear Diabolus, what do you 
advise mo to do ? Not only am I madly 
enamored of this beautiful Gaul, but this 
resistance and difficulty heightens my pas- 
sion. Think what it would be to triumph 
where so many others have failed !” 


142 


THE MYSTERIES OP THE PEOPLE. 


“ It would make your reputation j no one 
tut you would be talked of in Orange for a : 
week.” 

“I said to myself, therefore, my dear 
Diabolus alone can counsel me, a finished 
master as he is in seduction and intrigue.” 

“ My dear Norbiac, make an offering to 
Tenus this evening of two pairs of doves, 
of chased gold. The priests of the good 
goddess prefer gold to feathers.” 

“ An offering to V enus ! ^Yhy ?” 

“ That she may smile on you.” 

“ Explain yourself.” 

“ Come here,” said Diabolus, addressing 
Sylvest, who obeyed. Ilis master resumed, 
“My dear Norbiac, look at this varlet.” 

“ This slave — ^your valet?” 

“ Yes, examine him attentively.” 

“ Is this a jest?” 

“ No, by Hercules ! Look, do you not 
find a certain vague resemblance, something 
like that between a goose and a swan ?” 

“ A resemblance to what swan ?” 

“ The beautiful Gaul whom you love.” 

“ She ! You are jesting !” 

“ I am not jesting. Upon this shaven 
poll fancy fair hair, and, instead of this 
face browned by the sun, imagine a com- 
plexion like lilies and roses.” 

“ Indeed, I had not attentively looked at 
this slave,” said Norbiac, scrutinizing Syl- 
vest ; “ he is fair, with black eyes, like the 
beautiful Gaul. Yes, the more I look at 
him, tlio more plainly I perceive a vague re- 
semblance.” 

“ That arises doubtless from the fact that 
he had not altogether the same father as his 
sister,” said Diabolus, bursting into a laugh. 
Sylvest felt that if he had had his master at 
that moment under his razor he might have 
slain him. “ But, in fine,” resumed Diabo- 
lus, “ the father is sufficiently represented 
for you to recognize in this knave the broth- 
er of the beautiful Gaul.” 

“ This slave Jier brother !” 

“He and your beauty were sold when 
children, eighteen years ago, after the battle 
of Vannes. He has just told me the story. 
Is this true, gallows-bird ?” 

“ It is the truth,- master,” replied Sylvest, 
fancying himself dreaming, for he could not 
imagine his master^s designs. 

“You are her brother,” cried the Gaul, 
addressing Sylvest ; “ then you must know 
her.” 

Diabolus interrupted him. “ Ho only 
learned his relationship yesterday,” he hast- 
ened to say; “till then he had not seen the 
beautiful Gaul and was ignorant that she 
was his sister. Do you understand now, my 
dear Norbiac, that though the door has been 
shut in the face of procuresses and rich 
nobles, it Avill open to a brother?” 

“ Ah ! Diabolus, my friend, my generous 
friend, you have saved mo !” 

“ Now, mark me well ; there is not only no 


courtesan, but no woman, no patrician ladyr 
no empress that cannot be bought ; you have 
only to choose the right moment and offer 
the right price.” 

“ IMy whole fortune; if necessary.” 

“ That is something.” 

“ My uncle is very rich ; I will borrow 
on my inheritance.” 

“ That perhaps will be sufficient. But you 
know,or you ought to know, my dear Norbiac, 
that a woman always likes to have an earn- 
est of the promises made her ; there are so 
many cheats, even among us nobles. I am 
certain, therefore, that if this valet first 
presents himself in your behalf with a good- 
sized casket of gold, as a mere sample of 
your munificence — ” 

“ Diabolus, you are a jewel of a friend ; I 
will hasten to my banker’s for two thousand 
aurei. But can you answer for this slave ?” 

“ He knows in the first place that I would 
cut off his hands and feet if he refused to 
serve you ; then, as his race is naturally ad- 
dicted to pilfering, I shall not quit him till 
I have seen him enter the house of the 
beautiful Gaul.” 

“ Ah ! my friend, these are services that 
can never be requited,” exclaimed Norbiac. 
“ My litter is below ; I will go for the gold, 
and return directly.” 

He quitted the house. Sylvest, left alone 
with his master, gazed at him with astonish- 
ment. 

“Now, we must have a little talk to- 
gether, knave. Do you understand my 
plan ?” • 

“ No.” 

“ What a simpleton. As a brother, you 
will have access to your sister.” 

“ Perhaps so, my lord. I am not sure 
of it.” 

“ I will flay you alive if you do not gain 
entrance to-day to her house. Is that 
clear ?” 

“ Perfectly so, my lord. I will therefore 
introduce myself into my sister’s house.” 

“ With the Gaul’s casket of gold.” 

“ Which I am to offer as a sample of 
Lord Norbiac’s generosity ?” 

“ Of Lord Diabolus’s, you blockhead. 
Yes, you are to offer this casket to the beau- 
tiful Gaul as a trifling proof of the muni- 
ficence of your master, who has accom- 
panied you, you are to say, to the door of 
the house ; to convince your sister of which, 
you are to make her come to the window 
that she may see mo waiting in the square. 
Do you understand at last, varlet?” 

“ Yes, my lord, you Avill make use of Lord 
Norbiac’s gold to win the beautiful Gaul 
for yourself. I admire your ingenuity.” 

Sylvest had feigned to be willing to serve 
the passion of his master, in order to obtain 
facilities for procuring access to Siomara, 
and to escape, not the tortures, which he 
knew how to endure, but the imprisonment 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


143 


by which his last nocturnal absence would 
have been punished, and which would have 
prevented him from seeing his sister as 
speedily as he wished. 

Lord Norbiac, having brought his casket 
full of gold, loaded Diabolus anew with 
thanks, and withdrew, entreating him to 
inform him as soon as possible of the good 
or ill success of the interview between 
Siomara and the slave. The latter, carry- 
ing the casket, and followed closely by his 
master, repaired at nightfall to the temple 
of Diana, not far from which was found the 
house of the beautiful Gaul. He knocked. 
Presently he discerned through the half- 
opened door the figure of the eunuch, an 
old man of unnatural size, with a pimpled, 
beardless, wan and bloated face, lighted up 
by a pair of small black eyes, as glittering 
and wicked as those of a reptile; a few 
white locks strayed from his black cap, 
and he was dressed in a black robe, red 
trowsers, and old yellow gaiters. 

“ What do you want ?” said he to Syl- 
vest, in his shrill and piercing vcfice. 

“ To see my sister.” 

“ Who is your sister ?” 

“ Siomara.” 

“ Are you Siomara’s brother ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Begone, impostor, or I will give you a 
taste of my crab-stick behind the door. Be 
off, you knave.” 

“ I foresaw your incredulity, and brought 
with me proofs that Siomara is my sister. 
If you refuse mo admittance to her I shall 
contrive by some means or other to let her 
know who I am and that I live in Orange.” 

These words appeared at once to surprise 
the eunuch and to make him reflect ; he be- 
came thoughtful and anxious, and, still 
holding the door half open, he said to the 
slave, fixing on him his small, serpent-like 
eyes, “ What is your name ?” 

“ Sylvest.” 

“ W hat was your father’s name ?” 

“ Guilhern.” 

“ And your grandfather’s ?” 

“Joel, the breun of the tribe of Karnak.” 

“ What were the names of your mother 
and grandmother ?” 

“ My mother’s name was Henory ; my 
grandmother’s Margarid.” 

“ Where were you sold ?” 

“ At Vannes, with my father and sister, 
after the battle.” 

The eunuch appeared more and more 
thoughtful and annoyed ; he kept silence 
flu: a few moments, still leaving Sylvest 
(Hitside, while Lord Diabolus, who was 
p asted at a little distance from them, did not 
take his eyes off the slave. At last he said, 

“ Come in.” 

The door closed upon them. The eunuch 
led the way through a narrow passage to a 
small room, the door of which he carefully i 


closed ; he then seated himself by a table, 
took from under his robe a long sharp dag- 
ger, laid it within his reach, and addressing 
Sylvest in a peevish tone, said, “A few 
idle words do not prove to me that you are 
Siomara’s brother.” 

“ I have other proofs.” 

“ What are they ?” 

_ “ I have about my person a little golden 
sickle and a brass bell, the legacy of our 
father, together with several parchments in 
which are related different family events. 
If my sister has told you of her childhood 
and her kindred, you will see from these 
writings that I do not lie, but that I am 
her brother.” 

“ Unless, which is very possible, you are 
some vagabond that has stolen these articles 
after killing the real Sylvest.” 

“ There are many other things relative to 
our family of which I am informed, and 
which I alone could know ; when I tell 
them to Siomara, she will be certain that I 
am her brother/’ 

“Come hear the window,” said the eu- 
nuch, “for the day is fast declining — or, 
rather, wait.” And taking a flint and steel, 
he lighted a lamp, and, scrutinizing the 
slave long and carefully by the light, said, 
“ Your face will be a better proof to me of 
what you say than these baubles of sickles 
and bells.” 

After carefully examining Sylvest’s feat- 
ures, the eunuch shook his head and mur- 
mured, as if talking to himself, “ Such a 
resemblance is not due to chance. Siomara 
told the truth; in their childhood they 
might have been mistaken for each other.” 

“ Then my sister has spoken of me !” ex- 
claimed Sylvest, with tears in his eyes. 
“ Perhaps she often thinks of her brother.” 

“ Oh ! very often. She is a creature 
who forgets nothing.” And the old man’s 
features assumed an expression of sinister 
villainy. 

“ And my father and mother — has my 
sister also often spoken of them ?” 

“ Very often,” replied the old man, with 
the same expression, “ very often. She is a 
jewel of a daughter and sister. It is a pity 
that she is not married ; she would also bo 
a jewel of a wife. But what do you want 
of your sister ?” 

“ To see her and have a long talk with her.” 

“ Indeed ! And what is in that casket 
that you have under your arm ?” 

“ It is gold.” 

“ For the beautiful Gaul ?” 

“ 1 was ordered to offer it to her.” 

“ By your master, doubtless ; for your 
livery and shaven head show that 3'ou are a 
house-slave. A valet for a brother — that is 
something for Siomara to bo proud of. 
Moreover, you are playing the part of pro- 
curer toward your sister, like a good kins- 
man.” 


144 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


SylvesFs brow flushed with rage, but he 
* restrained himself, and replied, “ Chance 
offered mo this means of approaching my 
sister; I employed it.” 

“ So be it. Put the casket on the table. 
Now, tell me where and how you learned 
that the beautiful Gaul was jmur sister ?” 

“ That matters little to you.” 

“ This knave is all unrestraint and confi- 
dence. So you wish to see your sister; doubt- 
less, toe ntreat her to ransom you from your 
master’s hands, or to beg some alms of her ?” 

“ In seeking to s^e my father’s daughter, 
I yield to the impulse of my heart,” replied 
Sylvest, proudly. “ If an atom of the in- 
famous gold that she earns could redeem 
me from death and torture, I should prefer 
torture and death !” 

“ Hear this rascal, with his shaven head 
and his livery, prating of his honor !” said 
the eunuch ; and, looking at Sylvest with 
redoubled distrust, he added,. “ Have you 
come here, wretch, to shame your sister 
from her calling ?” 

“ Would to the gods that I might ! for I 
would rather see her turn a millstone, with 
bare feet, under the lash of an overseer, 
than live in disgraceful opulence,” cried 
Sylvest. No sooner had he uttered these 
words than he regretted them, thinking 
that they might prevent the eunuch from 
taking him to Siomara, lest she should 
listen to his counsels. To his great sur- 
prise, however, the eunuch, after long re- 
flection, struck his forehead as if some new 
thought had entered his brain, took the 
lamp in one hand and the dagger in the 
other, and said to Sylvest, “ Follow me !” 

The old man opened the door and led the 
way through a tortuous passage, along 
which they walked for a few moments; 
then, suddenly blowing out the lamp, he 
said to Sylvest, amidst the deep darkness, 
“ Pass before me.” 

Sylvest obeyed, although greatly sur- 
rised, and glided, not without difficulty, 
etween the fat eunuch and the wall of the 
narrow passage. 

“Now,” resumed the old man, “go straight 
forward until you come to a wall. Have 
you reached it ?” 

“ I have just struck against it.” 

“ Do not stir, and listen attentively.” The 
eunuch was silent for a moment; then he 
added, “What did you hear ?” 

“ I heard something like a sliding panel 
gliding through a groove.” 

“ You ought to be called Fine-ear. Place 
your back against the wall. Have you done 

BO ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Carefully put one foot forward, as if to 
try the ground. What do you feel ?” 

“Empty space,” replied Sylvest, terrified, 
quickly retreating backward and leaning 
his back against the wall. 


“ Yes, it is empty space,” returned the 
eunuch. “ If you stir a step from the cor- 
ner, you will fiill to the bottom of this pit — 
an abandoned cistern, where all your bones 
will be broken by the fall, and whence you 
will never escape, for I shall instantly close 
the trap-door over the abyss now yawning 
at your feet.” 

“ Why this threat ? What is your aim ?” 

“ My aim is to bo certain that you will 
not stir from this place while I am gone. 
Wait for me.” 

The slave, hearing the departing steps of 
the old man, cried, “ But my sister, my 
sister !” 

“ You will see her.” 

“ Where ?” 

“ Where you are,” replied the receding 
voice of the eunuch. “ Turn your face to 
the wall, look with all your eyes, and — ” 

The eunuch’s last words did not reach 
Sylvest’s ears. He believed himself the 
sport of this malicious old man. Never- 
theless, he turned his face to the wall, and 
was struck by a peculiar circumstance. By 
degrees, just as the eye becomes accustomed 
to darkness and discerns objects that were 
at first invisible to it, it seemed to him that 
the wall, on a level with his eyes, vaguely 
became transparent. At first he saw a sort 
of whitish mist, which gradually cleared 
away, and gave place to a faint light resem- 
bling the dawn. The slave might have 
covered with his two hands the most lumin- 
ous part of this circular light, the outer 
edge of which insensibly blended with the 
surrounding darkness. He felt the wall at 
this spot, and encountered a polished sur- 
face, as cold and hard as marble or steel. 
The light gradually increased, like the orb 
of the full moon, when it slowly emerges 
from the light vapors by which it has been 
vailed. This disk at length became wholly 
transparent, and Sylvest saw through the 
transparency a vaulted chamber, part of 
Avhich alone was within his sight. A 
lamp, similar to those which are kept burn- 
ing continually in the Roman tombs, was 
suspended by an iron chain, and illumined 
the place. He remarked with a shudder, 
on shelves placed along the wall, several 
bleached skulls, with long, silky hair, like 
that of women. On a table, covered with 
peculiar steel instruments, he saw strange- 
ly shaped vases, skeleton hands, the bony 
fingers of which were covered with precious 
atones, and, strange to saj’-, the hand of an 
infant, freshly cut off, an4 still bleeding. 

Near the table, a bronze tripod, fujl of 
embers, supported a brazen vase, from 
which arose a bluish vapor ; on the other 
side of the table was found a large chest 
of costly wood, with a mirror above it, 
composed of a plate of burnished silver. 
On this chest was a red girdle, covered 
with magic characters, like the belt worn 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


145 


by the Thessalifin sorceress -n-hom the slave 
had seen the night before at Faustina’s 
temple. In a corner of the room was a 
couch of cedar-wood, set with ivory, and 
covered with richly embroidered tapestry. 
At the head of this couch rose a little 
column of porphyry, with a silver capital, 
exquisitely carved, on which was placed, 
as a relic, the hoof of a donkey, polished 
like ivory, and turned in such a manner 
that Sylvest observed that a golden shoe 
was fitted to the hoof, with five large dia- 
monds in the place of nails. lie at first 
supposed this room to be unoccupied, for 
his eye could only embrace a part of it. 
Suddenly, a woman appeared, walking back- 
ward, with her face turned from him, and 
throwing repeated kisses toward an in- 
visible spot. Half clad in a linen tunic, 
which left bare her shoulders and arms, as 
white as alabaster, this woman was of a 
lofty stature and as slender and finely 
formed as the Roman goddess Diana. One 
of the thick, long tresses of her fair hair 
had become loosened and fell almost to her 
feet. At the sight of her fair tresses, like 
those of his sister, Sylvest started. The 
woman, after throwing a last kiss from the 
tips of her delicate fingers in the same di- 
rection as the first, flung herself on the 
couch, and thus turned her head toward 
Sylvest. 

It was she, Siomara — ^yes, it was really 
she. Owing to the presence of the sweet 
memories of his childhood — his only con- 
solation in slavery— owing to his sister’s 
striking resemblance to their mother, Ilen- 
ory, Sylvest could not fail to recognize 
Siomara, and never had ho met more daz- 
zling beauty. Forgetting the shame of the 
unfortunate being — forgetting the strange, 
hideous, and horrible objects with which 
she was surrounded — his eyes filled with 
tears of love and admiration. 

Siomara, her cheeks flushed with a 
rosy tint, her large black eyes sparkling 
like stars under their long lashes, and her 
long hair, half-confined, falling over her 
white shoulders, rested her face on one 
hand, while with the other she wiped her 
moist brow, then let her languid head fall 
upon the pillows and half-closed her eyes, 
doubtless seeking repose or sleep. 

Sylvest was thus enabled to gaze long^ at 
bis sister. As he gazed, tears of anguish 
rolled down his cheeks. This enchanting 
face, as rosy, fresh, and ingenuous as that 
of a young girl, was that of a courtesan, 
devoted from her childliood, through slave- 
ry, to an infamous vocation.. With shame 
on his brow and rage in his heart, ho 
thought that these kisses, thrown by his 
sister to some invisible being, were meant, 
perhaps, for the gladiator. Mount Libanus , 
then, lastly, the sinister objects that filled 
tlio room struck Sylvost anew those skulls, 
10 


with long, silky hair • these skeleton fingers 
loaded with precious stones, and this in- 
fant’s hand, freshly cut ofT, and still bleed- 
ing. Yet Siomara, stretched on the couch, 
slumbered, peaceful and smiling, amidst 
these human relics. Sylvest thought it a 
fatal chance which, for two nights in suc- 
cession, one at Faustina’s temple and the 
other in this place, rendered him an unseen 
spectator of strange mysteries. 

Ere long, Siomara seemed to waken sud- 
denly from her slumber. She started up as 
if she had heard some noise or signal, left 
her couch, rose, and looked at an hour-glass, 
the sands of which were half run out; this 
doubtless reminded her of some appoint- 
ment which she had made, for she hastily 
arranged the braids of her hair. Then 
taking from the table a flask of a peculiar 
form, she poured a few drops from it into 
the brazen vase on the tripod. A bluish 
light arose therefrom, followed by several 
jets of bright red flame, over which Sio- 
mara held a plate of polished -metal. The 
flames quickly died out, after which she 
curiously examined»the blackened spots left 
on the polished surface by the fire. Sylvest 
could not help thinking, with a shudder, of 
the Thessalian sorceress and her magic 
spells. Siomara, however, soon threw the 
plate aside and clapped her hands with de- 
light ; her face became radiant, and she ran 
to the cedar-wood chest, which stood under 
the mirror of burnished silver. Standing 
thus, with her back to Sylvest, she opened 
the chest and took thence a long robe, 
which she threw over her shoulders, con- 
fining it at the waist with the red girdle 
that was hanging by the mirror. A cold 
sweat bathed Sylvest’s brow at the sight of 
this black robe and magic girdle ; he saw 
his sister dressed precisely like the Thessa- 
lian sorceress that had visited Faustina. 
Siomara, with her back still turned toward 
him, again stooped to the chest and took 
from it a sort of a cast with a hood at- 
tached, with which she carefully covered 
her head, then turned and again approached 
the brazen tripod. 

Merciful gods ! Sylvest’s reason was 
firmly seated, for at that moment ho did not 
go mad, though his brain turned dizzy. It 
was no longer Siomara that ho saw, but the 
Thessalian sorceress who had demanded 
the life of a slave the night before at the 
house of the great Roman lady. Yes, it 
was the magician — it was her very self, 
with her copper complexion, her face fur- 
rowed with the wrinkles of old age, her 
nose like the beak of a bird of prey, her 
bushy, gray eyebrows, and her disheveled 
white hair straying from under Jior hood. 
Yes, it was the Thessalian. Had she hith- 
erto assumed, by a magic charm, the feat- 
ures of Siomara? Or had Siomara as- 
sumed, through sorcery, those of the old 


146 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


•woman ? Sylvest knew not; but before bis 
eyes stood the Thessalian. This superhu- 
man transformation, which almost bewil- 
dered his reason, struck him with terror. 
Thinking only of escaping this infernal 
dwelling, he forgot the abyss that yawned 
before bim. Scarcely had he, groping in 
the darkness, put one foot forward, than he 
encountered the pit. He attempted to throw 
himself backward; in the sudden move- 
ment, he stumbled and rolled into the gap- 
ing chasm, having barely time to lay bold 
of the edge of the plank, to which he 
clung with his body suspended over the abyss. 

Had it not been for the remembrance of 
Loyse and the child that she bore in her 
bosom, the slave wohld not have attempted 
to escape death, bufwould have let himself 
fall into the gulf.' His love for his wife, 
however, gave bim superhuman strength ; 
by stiffening bis wrists, he , succeeded in 
raising himself up far enough to rest one 
of his knees on the edge of the opening, 
and to escape from danger ; then, exhausted 
by his efforts and overwhelmed by his 
frightful discovery, he sank upon the floor. 

-• How long he remained thus paralyzed in 
mind and body, he knows not. When he 
came to himself, he thought at first that be 
had been the sport of a dream; then, the 
reality recurring to his mind, he perceived, 
alas ! that it was not a vision. He supposed 
that the eunuch had thus made him an un- 
seen witness of these frightful mysteries in 
order to inspire him with abhorrence of his 
sister, and to render a reconciliation be- 
tween them impossible. Had it not been 
for the gulf yawning at his feet, he would 
have fled this accursed place. Ilis senses 
returning, he perceived that the transparent 
light, though dimmer, was still seen through 
the wall. Yielding to a terrible curiosity, 
he rose and looked in. The room was de- 
serted, and the iron lamp extinguished ; the 
bluish light from the brazen vase on the 
tripod alone illumined this sinister place. 
In a short time the sorceress reappeared, 
carrying in her hand a package wrapped in 
a black cloth, which she hastily unrolled, 
and took from it a head freshly cut off'. 
Sylvest recognized, by the bluish light from 
the tripod, the features of the beautiful 
Lydia, the young virgin who had died the 
night before, and whom he had often ad- 
mired as she passed through the streets of 
Orange. Ho then remembered the words 
of his master, who had told Lord Norbiac 
that morning that the watchers at Lydia’s 
tomb would have a hard task to preserve 
her remains from the profanations of the 
magici.ans, cynically adding that few young 
girls died vestals at Orange, and that their 
bodies were of priceless value to the sor- 
oeresses. 

The horrible old hag — for Sylvest began 
to believe himself the dupe of a vision or 


of the error of his eyes, and refused to be- 
lieve that Siomara and the magician were 
one and the same person — the horrible old 
woman laid the head of Lydia on a table, 
together with a shapeless and bloody lump 
of flesh, which she put into the newly am- 
putated hand of an infant, which was found 
there; after which she placed the whole 
on the head of Lydia, and fastened it there 
with the dead girl’s long tresses. 

Sylvest suddenly felt a hand laid on his 
shoulder, and heard the shrill and piercing 
voice of the eunuch exclaim : 

“ The gulf is no longer open beneath your 
feet ; you can follow me without danger. 
Are you satisfied? Have you seen your 
sister Siomara, the beautiful Gaul, the 
adored courtesan?” 

“ No,” cried the slave, advancing bewil- 
dered through the darkness. “ No, I have 
not seen my sister ; this horrible magician 
here is not Siomara. All this is magic and 
enchantment. Let me flee this accursed 
house !” 

The eunuch, however, barred the narrow 
passage with his great body, and forced the 
slave to remain where he was, saying : 

“ What ! would you go away now with 
out speaking to your sister ? What has be- 
come of your late violent affection for the 
daughter of your mother ?” 

“ No, this is not my sister, or, if it is, I 
no longer have a sister ; let me go.” 

“ This is not your sister, and why ?” re- 
turned the eunuch, bursting into a fit of 
laughter. “ Is it because, beautiful as 
Venus, she has suddenly changed herself 
into an old woman as hideous as the Fates. 
And what if you had seen her as I did 
yesterday, as naked as Cypris rising from 
the waves, rub herself with a magic oil, 
and her lovely body instantly become cov- 
ered with a light down, her charming arms 
dwindle away and change into long wings, 
her Diana-like limbs and tiny feet transform 
themselves into tlie claws of a bird of night, 
her graceful neck swell and put on a cov- 
ering of feathers, and her adored head as- 
sume the figure of an osprey which, uttering 
shrill cries, took flight through the vaulted 
hall ?” 

“Let me go; you will drive me mad!” 

“What would you have said the other 
night when Siomara transformed herself 
into a she-wolf to prowl around the gibbets 
at the setting of the moon, and bring back 
in her teeth the skull of a malefactor neces- 
sary for her enchantments ?”* 

* Apuleius thus describes the reticles which were com- 
monly seen in the dweilinge of the sorceresses : “ There 
were all kinds of aromatics, brass blades covered with 
undecipherable hieroglyphics, pieces of iron from 
wrecked vessels, numirous shreds of human flesh-be- 
longing to bodies lately bemoaned, figures, nails from 
gibbets, and beads half devoured by wild beasts of the 
circus. * * * * They snatched human remains from 
the graves and the funeral-piles, wherewith to conjuiw 
the most frightful calamities upon the people.’* 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


147 


“Merciful gods, have pity on me 

“ And the other night, when, taking the 
shape of a black Bnak^v-Siomara glided into 
the cradle of a new45orn infant, by the side 
^-©fits inTither^irbM, and, gently coiling her- 
self around its neck, placed her reptile head 
to the infant’s rosy lips in order to inhale 
its last breath, and strangled it, the last 
breath of a new-born babe being needed for 
her sorceries ?” 

“ I am appalled ! Am I waking or dream- 
ing ?” murmured Sylvest. 

“ You are awake, by Hercules ! yes, wide 
awake, but you are afraid. What ! wretched 
poltroon, you have a sister who, by her 
magic power, can become in turn a beauti- 
ful woman, an osprey, a she-wolf, and a ser- 
pent — who can assume whatever shape she 
pleases, in fine, and you do not rejoice at it, 
for the honor of your family !” 

Sylvest felt his reason falter for a mo- 
ment ; he believed the eunuch’s words. If 
Siomara could metamorphose herself into a 
hideous sorceress, why not also into an os- 
prey, a wolf, or a serpent ? 

The old man, still barring the way with 
his great body, continued : 

“ What ! blockhead, you do not thank me, 
after I have posted you in this good place, 
in order to initiate you into the secrets of 
Siomara’s life, so thaf, on seeing her direct- 
ly, you can clasp her tenderly to your fra- 
ternal heart and say. Thou art the worthy 
daughter of our mother !” 

“ O all-powerful Hesus ! be merciful ; take 
my life or wholly destroy my reason, that I 
may no longer listen to this demon !” said 
Sylvest, so stunned and dejected that he 
felt neither the strength nor the courage to 
escape by force. 

“ What ! I have placed you here, so thatyou 
could also see and know your sister’s lover, 
approve her good taste, and congratulate 
her on her choice; and you stand there as 
stupid as a millstone, without speaking a 
word ! You know Siomara’s lover now, I 
hope ; you saw her handsome Belphegor?” 

“ I saw no one,” murmured Sylvest, more 
and more bewildered, and replying as it 
were against his own will. “ The young 
woman who was there — oh ! no, she was not 
my sister ! — entered, throwing kisses to 
some one whom I could not see ; I supposed 
that it was to the gladiator. Mount Libanus.” 

“Mount Libanus !” exclaimed the eunuch, 
bursting into laughter. “ Siomara despises 
Mount Libanus as the dust on her sandals. 
She would give half a score of Mount 
Libanuses for one Belphegor. What! did 
you not see this handsome minion ?” 

« No.” 

“It is possible; she visited him instead of 
making him come to her. Their rooms are 
on the same floor; so that, on coming out, she 
threw him a few loving kisses through the 
door. So, you did not see Belphegor ; it is 


a pity. Would you like to know who this 
cherished darling is — this gallant whom 
many great ladies would envy Siomara, did 
they know him to be her lover ? Well, he 
is—” 

And the eunuch whispered two words in 
Sylvest’s ear,* who uttered a horrible cry, 
for a recent remembrance crossed his mind ; 
then, in his rage and terror, he threw him- 
self violently on the eunuch, knocked him 
down and trampled him under foot, and, 
having thus opened the way for himself, 
rushed onward in the darkness, striking 
here and there against the walls, pursued 
by the frightful laughter of the eunuch, who 
had regained his feet and was chasing him, 
shouting, “ Belphegor ! Belphegor !” 


CHAPTER IV. 

The Gladiator, Mount Libanus. — Siomara. — The Amor- 
ous Lion. — Siomara recognizes S.vlvest. — What has 
happened to Sylvest and his sister since their separa- 
tion. — Sylvest is arrested in Siomara’s house and 
taken to Lord Diabolus, who sends htm to the amphi- 
theatre to be thrown to the wild beasts a’, the ap- 
proaching games. 

Sylvest, still fleeing before the pursuit of 
the eunuch, perceived a bright light at the 
end of the passage, rushed toward it, re- 
cognized the vestibule, and drew the inner 
bolt of the street-door, believing himself 
saved; but just as he was about to set foot 
in the street, he was confronted by a man of 
gigantic stature, who, seizing him by the 
throat with an iron grasp, forced him back 
into the vestibule and shut and bolted the 
door at the moment that the eunuch came 
up out of breath, crying, “ Belphegor ! 
Belphegor !” 

At the sight of the giant, the eunuch drew 
back a step or two, and exclaimed angrily, 
“ Mount Libanus — ^you here!” 

“ Death and murder !” cried the gladiator, 
in a threatening tone. “The beautiful 
Gaul shall trifle with me no longer. Since 
nightfall I have been lying in ambush in 
the house opposite. I saw this wretched 
slave come hither, accompanied by his mas- 
ter, Lord Diabolus ; they paused a few steps 
from here; Diabolus spoke to his slave, and 
the latter, taking a 'casket under his arm, 
knocked at the door, which opened and ad- 
mitted him. This was at nightfall, and 
here it is almost dawn. Death and furies ! 
do you take me for a gosling ?” 

“We take you for what you are, you 
butcher of human flesh, you wine-cask, you 
desolation of wine-skins !” exclaimed the 
eunuch, in his shrill and piercing voice. 
“Begone, you tavern-pillar, you terror of 
inn-keepers! Off with you, you fighting 


* See the Golden Ass, and the Latin verses of Juve- 
nal. 


148 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


1)1x11 ! There is no one here to pierce with 
your sword, and your bellowings do not 
i’righten me 

“ Do you wish me to choke you in your 
fat, you old larded capon ? Dp you wish 
me to burstyouopen with my cudgel, you soft 
and flabby pot-belly ?” cried the gladiator, 
raising against the old man a thick ebony 
cane, with a human bone for a head. 
“ Blood and brains ! if you say a word more, 
it will be your last. Take care, you tun of 
rancid lard !” 

Thus spoke Mount Libanus, the cele- 
brated gladiator, whom the great Roman 
ladies immodestly pursued. He appeared 
still young; but the expression of his 
coarse, rude features was insolent and 
stolid. A sword-thrust, beginning at his 
forehead and ending in his thick, tawny 
beard, had deprived him of his left eye. 
His rich apparel was spotted with wine 
and grease, and his tunic, embroidered with 
silver, but rumpled and half unfastened, 
disclosed his Herculean chest, as hairy as a 
bear. His doeskin breeches and military 
boots, trimmed with gold braid, seemed as 
dilapidated as the rest of his attire. A long 
broadsword was suspended at his side; his 
head was covered with a felt hat, adorned 
with a long red plume, and he carried in 
his hand his ebony cane, with a rounded 
human bone for a head, probably a memento 
of one of his combats. Yes, such was that 
Mount Libanus, whom the noble ladies of 
Orange disputed with each other, and who 
had replied by a disdainful refusal to the 
overtures of Faustina. 

At the increasing noise of the dispute 
between the gladiator and the eunuch, an 
inner door of the vestibule opened and 
Siomara appeared, no longer transfigured 
as a hideous sorceress, but young, proud and 
beautiful — oh ! a thousand times more beau- 
tiful than she had seemed to the slave at the 
beginning of this accursed night. But it 
was not she — oh ! no, it was not she whom he 
had seen; he could not believe it. Sio- 
mara^s luxuriant, fair tresses were confined 
in the meshes of a silver net. She wore 
two tunics — one white and very long, the 
other, of cerulean blue, was short and em- 
broidered with gold and pearls, leaving her 
neck and arms bare. On seeing his sister 
possessed of so pure and brilliant a beauty, 
Sylvest thought more than ever that he 
had had a horrible vision during the past 
night. “ No, no,'' thought he, “ a profligate 
courtesan, and accursed sorceress, would 
not have this chaste, proud brow, and this 
soft and noble glance; no, the infamous 
eunuch lied. There is a mystery here that 
my reason cannot fathom. But the Siomara 
whom I see hero is really my sister ; the 
one of last night, doubtless, appeared tome 
through sorcery." 

Thus thought the slave, who stood in the 


shade, concealed by a pillar of the ves- 
tibule. Unperceived as yet by the court- 
esan, he waited te see what would take 
place between her, the eunuch, and the 
gladiator. The coarse audacity of the 
latter seemed to have disappeared at the 
sight of Siomara, who, with an imperious 
and threatening look and uplifted brow, 
advanced toward the giant. 

“ What means this noise in my house ?" 
said she, sternly. “ Does Mount Libanus 
fancy himself in one of the taverns where 
ho gets drunk every night ?" 

“This savage brute can do nothing but 
roar," returned the eunuch ; “ and, by Ju- 
piter ! I — " 

“ Silence !" interrupted Siomara. Then, 
turning to the gladiator, she added, in a 
queenly tone, “ Kneel, and ask pardon for 
your insolence." 

“ Listen, Siomara," stammered Mount Li- 
banus, whoso trouble and confusion in- 
creased. “ I will explain — " 

“ Kneel first ! Repent of your insolence, 
and then speak, if I permit." 

“ Siomara !" returned the gladiator, clasp- 
ing his hands with a suppliant air, “one 
word — only one word." 

“ Kneel i" she exclaimed, impatiently. 

The Hercules, with the timid docility of 
the chained bear obeying his master, knelt, 
saying, “ Behold mo on my knees — I, 
Mount Libanus, wlio have at my feet the 
greatest ladies of Orange." 

“And I trample on them in trampling on 
ou," replied Siomara, with a gestui-o of 
aughty disdxiin. “ Bow your neck — lower 
— still lower." 

The giant obeyed, prostrating his face 
almost on the pavement. Siomara placed 
the too of her little embroidered sandal on 
the neck of the bull, and said, “ Do you re- 
pent of your insolence ?" 

“ I do" 

“ Now begone from here," said Siomara, 
thrusting him away with her foot; “begone 
,from here at once, and never enter this 
house again." 

“ Siomara, you despise my love," ex- 
claimed the gladiator, raising himself on 
his knees, in which position ho remained 
for a moment, with an imploring and 
mournful air ; “ yet I never give a sword- 
thrust without uttering your name ; I never 
slay a conquered foe without giving you 
the honor ; I laugh at all the women who 
pursue me with their love; and when your 
disdain f.s more than I can bear, I flee tp 
the tavern to drown my grief in wine." 

“Yes," added the eunuch, “and after- 
ward to break the pets over the heads of 
the tavern-keepers." 

“ It is your fault, Siomara," resumed the 
giant, in a lamenting voice. “ I seek in- 
toxication to fox’get you. I would submit 
to your disdain without complaint if all 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


149 


■were repulsed like me. But this vile 
slave/^ and the gladiator pointed to Syivest 
as he rose, “ has remained almost all night 
in your liouse, Siomara, in his own behalf 
or his master’s ; ami this is why I was un- 
able to conquer my rage.” 

Sylvest’s sister, having followed with her 
eye the gesture of IMount Libanus, for the 
first time perceived the slave, who had 
hitherto been hidden by the shade and by 
one of the vestibule columns. “ Who is 
this man said she, hastily advancing 
toward Sylvest; then, seizing him by. the 
arm, she drew him forward so that the 
light of the lamp f«ll full on his face. 
“ Wlm are you ? to wliom dp you belong ?” 
she added, gazing steadily at him. “What 
are you doing here '?” 

Tho eunuch appeared to await in terror 
the answer of Sylvest, who could not utter 
a Avord ; he Avas striving to forget the mys- 
teries of this fatal night, and felt his broth- 
erly love struggling with tho terror with 
which Siomara had inspired him. The 
latter, after gazing for an instant at the 
slave, started, droAV him nearer tho lamp, 
and, examining him Avith redoubled curios- 
ity and attention, placed both hands on his 
shoulders — Sylvest felt her hands tremble 
slightly — and said, “ Of what country are 
you ?” 

Sylvest hesitated for a moment. lie was 
on the point of answering in such a manner 
as to deceive his sister ; but on seeing so 
near him that charming face which re- 
minded him so much of his mother’s, 
and feeling on his shoulders those hands 
so often clasped in his in tho happy days 
of his childhood, ho forgot everything but 
his sister, AA-ho repeated impatiently, “Do 
you not understand tho Koman language ? 
I ask j’ou ©f what country you are ?” 

“ I am a Gaul.” 

“ Of what province ?” ^aid Siomara, in 
Gallic. 

“ Brittany.” 

“ Of AA'hat tribe ?” 

“ Tho tribo of Karnak.” 

“ IIoAv long have you been a slave ?” 

“ I Avas sold Avhen a child, after the bat- 
tle of Vannes.” 

“ Had you a sister ?” 

“ Yes ; she Avas a year younger than I.” 

“ Was she sold, like you, when a child?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Have you ever seen her since ?” 

“ No.” 

“ Como, follow me,” said Siomara to the 
slave, Avhilo tho gladiator and tho eunuch 
seemed, the one incensed and the other 
troubled by this conversation in the Gallic 
tongue, Avhich they probably did not un- 
derstand. Tho courtesan advanced tOAvard 
the inner room, appearing Avholly to have 
forgotten Mount Libanus : but, recollecting 
herself, she turned toAvard him, and giv- 


ing him this time one of her sweetest smiles, 
exclaimed : 

“ You have humbled your brow beneath 
my foot, you, the bravest of the brave,” 
said she ; “ kiss my_ hand,” and she extended 
it to him. “ Continue to drive the Roman 
ladies to de.spair, as I do tho Roman lords ’ 
but do not despair yourself — do you under- 
stand, lion-he.*.vt ?” 

The gladiator threw himself on his knees 
to press to his coarse lips tbe hand of Sio- 
mara, tho courtesan. This ferocious, brutal, 
and profligate man must hijve been deeply 
moved, despite the grossness of his nature ; 
for, as ho kissed Siomara’s hand, a tear 
trickled down his cheek; then, rising, 
Avhile Siomara beckoned to her brother to 
folloAV her. Mount Libanus exclaimed Avith 
enthusiasm : 

“ By all the throats that I have cut, and 
by all that I shall yet cut, Siomara, thou 
canst tell the universe that the blood, heart, 
and SAAmrd of Mount Libanus aro thine !” 

Tho courtesan, leaving the gladiator to 
declaim his passion, and the eunuch to 
digest the Avrath doubtless caused him by 
tho reconciliation of the brother and sister, 
quitted the vestibule, and, motioning to Syl- 
vest to folIoAV her, led him to a room mag- 
nificently furnished, Avhere they Avere alone. 
Siomara then threAV herself on her brother’s 
neck, and said to him, with an expression 
of inefiiiblo tenderness, as she clasped him 
Avarmly to her breast, “ Sylvest, do you not 
knoAV me? I recognized you at once. I 
am your sister, who Avas sold like you 
eighteen years ago, after the battle of 
V annes.” 

“ I recognized you.” 

“ You say this coldly, my brother. You 
turn aAvay your eyes, and your countenance 
is gloomy. Is this tho way that you Avel- 
come the companion of . your childhood 
after so long a separation, ingrate ! when 
I have neverVpassed a day without think- 
ing of you ? Oh ! it is enough to make one 
Aveep !” and her eyes filled Avith tears. 

“ Sister, Siomara, with one word you can 
make mo the most Avretched of men or the 
happiest of brothers.” 

“ Oh ! speak.” 

“With one Avord you can call to my lips 
all tho tenderness that has been lingering in 
my heart for tho last eighteen years.” 

“ Oh ! speak quickly.” 

“ A word from you, in fine, and wo shall 
continue this conversation, Avhich yesterday 
I Avould have purchased Avith my blood; 
otherwise, I quit tho house this instant, 
never to see you again.” 

“ Never to see mo again ! and wherefore ? 
What have I done?” 

“Siomara, tho gods of my fathers are 
my Avitnesses, that Avhen I learned that tho 
beautiful Gaul, tho celebrated courtesan, 
was you, great Avas my shame and grief. 


150 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


my sister. But I thought of the forced cor- 
ruption which slavery almost always en- 
forces on tliose subjected to it from child- 
hood; and, above all, I thought that your 
master, who bought you when only eight 
years old, was named Trymalcion. It was, 
therefore, profound pity that I felt for you, 
and it was this feeling that brought me to 
your house last evening at nightfall.” 

“ Did you come here last evening ?” said 
Siomara, looking at her brother with stu- 
pefaction. “ Have you passed the night 
here 

“ Yes.” 

“ It is impossible.” 

“ I have told you, Siomara, that a word 
from you will decide whether I am to 
cherish you pityingly or leave you with ab- 
horrence.” 

‘‘ I inspire you with abhorrence !” she re- 
turned, with an air of such ingenuous sur- 
prise and in a tone of such gentle reproach 
that Sylvest was moved. “Why, brother, 
should yoii abhor me ?” As she spoke, she 
fixed her beautiful black eyes on the slave, 
lie felt more and more shaken ; his doubts 
revived, how^ever, and he resumed : 

“ Listen ; last evening I knocked at your 
door; the eunuch opened it; I told him 
that I was your brother.” 

“ You confided this to him !” she exclaim- 
ed, then seemed to reflect. 

“ lie appeared troubled and irritated by 
my revelation, and said to me, ‘You wish 
to see your sister; you shall see her — 
come.’ lie led me through a narrow cor- 
ridor, tlten, in an instant, blew out the 
lamp, telling me to go on. I obeyed, and 
encountered a wall. At the same time, a 
gulf opened beneath my feet. The eunuch 
commanded mo not to stir on peril of my 
life, and to look at the wall.” 

“ What !” she resumed, with as much 
astonishment as candor, while a slightly 
incredulous smile hovered (Ai her lips. 
“ To see me, did he tell you to look at the 
Avail ? Are you in earnest, my dear, good 
brother ?” 

“ I am so much in earnest, Siomara, that 
at this instant my heart is Avrung Avith ter- 
rible anguish, for I am about to hear the 
fatal Avord from your lips, sister. I obeyed 
the eunuch ; I looked at the wall — ” 

“ And Avhat then ?” 

“ By some enchantment, the wall became 
transparent, and I saAV in a vaulted chamber 
a Avoman who resembled you. Was it you, 
Siomara? Was it you, or your spectre? 
Was it you — yes or no ?” 

Sylvest trembled from head to foot while 
aAvaiting the answer of his sister, Avho re- 
peated, as if her brother had said some- 
thing impossible and mad, “ I in a vaulted 
chamber — I seen through a transparent 
vA'all !” Then, abruptly carrying her little 
hands to her forehead as if struck by some 


sudden memory, she burst into a fit of such 
frank and merry laughter that her enchant- 
ing face flushed with a rosy tint, and her 
eyes filled with tears of mirth. The slave 
gazed at her astonished, but, oh ! so happy 
to feel bis suspicions dispelled ; whereupon 
Siomara drew closer to him, and, seating 
herself by his side, rested one arm on his 
shoulder and said, in her gentle voice : 

“ Do you recollect, at our rustic home at 
Kamak, on the left of the sheep-fold and 
fronting the pasture of the young heifers, a 
little hut covered with sea-weed, at the foot 
of a great oak ?” 

“ Yes, indeed,” replied Sylvest, surprised 
at this question, but letting his thoughts 
drift, despite himself, to his cherished recol- 
lections ; “ I built it for you.” 

“ Yes ; and when the summer sun was 
scorching, or the spring rains fell, we used 
to take shelter, you remember, in this hut.” 

“How pleasant it was there! Avith the 
great oak abov'e our heads, the beautiful 
pasture-ground of the young heifers in front 
of us, and the beautiful brook, bordered 
with willows, Avhere the newly-woven linen 
was spread, in the distance.” 

“ Brother, do you remember, when we 
took refuge in this hut, how much we used 
to enjoy playing what we called games of 
words there ?” 

“ Yes, yes, I remember.” 

“Do you remember the play called the 
game of conditions ?” 

“ Y"es.” 

“ Well, brother, let us play it again as we 
used to do.” 

“ What do you mean ?” 

She replied, Avith a charming grace : 
“ First condition : little Sylvest, who sees 
Siomara through Avails, is not to question 
his sister any more on the subject, or, in 
spite of her profound respect for her elder 
brother, she will be unable to help laugh- 
ing at him. Second condition ; little Syl- 
vest is to answer all his sister’s questyjns. 
These conditions fulfilled, he Avill learn all 
that he wishes to know, even concerning 
the transparent Avail,” added Siomara, with 
difliculty restraining a fresh impulse to 
laugh, “and ho Avill have but one care, 
namely, hoAV to express warmly enough his 
affection for his poor sister, Avhom ho threat- 
ened just noAV never to see again — the 
naughty brother 1” 

Many years have passed since the day of 
this conversation, yet Sylvest, as ho Avrites 
these lines, still fancies that he hears the 
voice of Siomara, in accents of innocent 
gayety, reminding her brother of these 
childish memories. lie still seems to see 
her adorable face, Avith its expression at 
once so frank and so sincere. lie there- 
fore believed his sister’s words, Avhich con- 
firmed him in the idea that there were 
mysteries in question which his reason could 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


151 


not fatbom. These mysteries, Siomara, ac- 
cording to her promise, would explain, and 
prove to her brother that she was not un- 
worthy of his affection. lie abandoned 
himself, therefore, to the sweet remem- 
brance of the only years of happiness which 
he had ever known, and which he had 
shared with his sister in the bosom of 
their free and happy family. Drawing 
near Siomara, he took both her hands in 
his, and, endeavoring to smile like her at 
the memory of their childish plays, he 
said : 

“Sylvest accepts little Siomara’s condi- 
tions, and will ask no more questions. Let 
his sister interrogate him, and he will 
reply.” 

Siomara, tenderly pressing her brother’s 
hands, said, in a touching and saddened 
voice, as if expecting a mournful _ answer, 
“ Sylvest, what of our father ?” 

“ lie is dead ; he was put to death by 
frightful tortures.” 

Large tears trickled down the cheeks of 
the courtesan. After a gloomy silence, she 
continued ; 

“ Is it long since our father was thus 
cruelly put to death ?” 

“It was three years after he had been 
made a slave, like us, subsequent to the 
battle of Vannes.” 

“I remember our grief at being sepa- 
rated from each other, and at seeing my fa- 
ther, loaded with chains, make a superhuman 
effort to rush to our aid. But what became 
of you, my brother ? You were not sepa- 
rated from him ?” 

“ No; his master bought mo likewise, for 
a trifle, I believe. Our lather having shown 
himself of an indomitable race, it was 
feared that the wolf cub would grow up a 
wolf.” 

“And to what country were you both 
carried ?” 

“ We remained in our own country, to cul- 
tivate the lands of our fathers, in chains, 
under the lash.” 

“ What do you say ?” 

“ Caesar had distributed the lands among 
his wounded soldiers after the battle of 
Vannes; oar house and part of our fields 
fell to the lot of our master.” 

“ Poor father ! poor brother! What must 
have been your grief at seeing our bouse 
and lands in the possession of strangers ! 
But at least you were not separated from 
our father ?” 

“He slept at night with the other slaves 
in a vault dug for them,=*^' while the Ro- 
man oflicer, his slave wives, and our over- 
seers lodged in the house, where I lodged 
also, confined in a sort of cage.” 

“ 111 a cage? And why this barbarity ?” 

“ The day after wo arrived, our master 

* The erg.astulum, or prison of the farm-slaves, was 
always omier ground. 


said to my father, pointing to me, ‘ Every 
day that I am not satisfied with your labor, 
one of your son’s teeth will bo drawn. 
Every time you rebel, one of his nails will 
be plucked out, and if you undertake to 
escape, at every attempt, either his foot, his 
hand, his nose, his ears, or his tongue will 
be cut off; if you succeed in escaping, his 
eyes will be torn out, after which he will 
either be put in the oven, smeared with 
honey, and thus exposed to the wasps, or 
burned at a slow fire in a robe coated with 
pitch.* You are free now to act in such a 
manner that your son will count his days 
by his tortures.’ ” 

Siomara shuddered, and hid her face in 
her hands. 

“ ‘ You will have no more docile or indus- 
trious slave than myself,’ answered my 
father; ‘only promise me that if you are 
satisfied with my conduct and my labor, 
I shall sometimes see my son.’ 

“ ‘ Behave yourself, and I will see about 
it,’ returned the Roman. 

“Our father kept his promise, thinking 
only of sparing me torture. He showed 
himself the most industrious and docile of 
slaves.” 

“He, the most docile of slaves!” ex- 
claimed Siomara, her eyes wet with tears. 
“ Our father — he who was so proud of the 
independence of our race — he, Guilhern, 
the son of Joel ! Ah ! never did a father give 
his child a greater proof of tenderness.” 

“ A mother and father alone can have 
such courage. Nevertheless, despite his 
submission, it was long before our master 
permitted him to come near me ; now and 
then I saw him at a distance, at morning 
or night, on his way to and from the ergas- 
tulum, for at these hours our master per- 
mitted me to leave the cage to take a little 
exercise, after chaining me to a great, fero- 
cious dog, that never left my prison.” 

“ 0 brother ! were you treated thus ?” 

“Yes, I had on my neck a small iron 
collar and a chain long enough to bo fast- 
ened to the collar of the dog. Our father 
derived such courage from the hope that ho 
would some day bo permitted to come near 
mo, that at times he accomplished labors 
almost beyond human strength. The first 
time, for instance, that he was permitted to 
speak to me after our common enslavement, 
ho owed the favor to having hoed up seven 
measures of land, beginning at sunrise and 
ending at sunset ; while, when free and 
happy, in his full strength and health, ho 
could not, perhaps, have accomplished the 
same task in two days of hard labor. That 
evening, our father, sun-burned, bathed in 
sweat, and breathless with fatigue, was 
brought by the overseer to my cage. For 
greater security, besides the chain that he 

* Amonu other tortures, slaves were dressed in robes 
smeared with pitch, and thus burned. 


152 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


wore on his legs, his wrists had been hand- 
!’,ied 'I'he overseer did not take his eyes 
oflF us. 0 sister ! I burst into tears at the 
sight of my father. Ilitlierto I had only 
seen him at a distance, but close by, dressed 
in rags, with liis shaven head, and his hol- 
low and emaciated face, I could scarcely 
recognize him.” 

“lie, so handsome, proud and merry! 
Do you remember, Sylvest, how, on days of 
festivals and military drills, mounted on his 
iron-gray stallion with red housings and 
bridle, he rode at full gallop over our 
meadows, while our uncle Mikael, the ar- 
morer, followed him on foot, swinging now 
and then by the horse’s mane.” 

“Yet, my sister, the first time that he 
was permitted to approach me and speak to 
me, our father’s face became as radiant as 
at the time of our happiest days of old. 
Scarcely Avas he within reach of my cage 
when he exclaimed in a voice broken with 
tears of joy, ‘ Your cheek, my poor child, 
your cheek !’ I laid my cheek against the 
grating and he tried to kiss it through the 
bars ; then, in spite of our delight at seeing 
each other again, we wept profusely. He 
was the first to dry his tears, that he might 
comfort and encourage me, and remind me 
of the manly examples of our family and 
the precepts of our gods. We talked long 
of you, my sister. At last, after exchanging 
many loving words, the overseer led my 
father back to the vault. These interviews 
were rare, but every time they gave my 
father new courage.” 

“ And you, poor brother, were you al- 
Avays kept imprisoned ?” 

“Always. It was our master’s only guar- 
antee for my father’s docility. Three years 
passed in this manner. The Roman having 
occasion to correspond in our tongue Avith 
the Gauls of England concerning the sale 
of wheat, intrusted my father with this task ; 
in this manner he was enabled, in obedi- 
ence to the last wishes of our ancestor Joel, 
now and then to write by stealth for me 
some events of his life. He had hidden in 
a hollow tree, the location of Avhich I knew, 
the narratives of Joel and Albinik, together 
Avith the little golden sickle of our aunt 
licna, and one of the brass bells worn by 
our Avar-oxen at the battle of Vannes; he 
likoAviso deposited in the same spot what 
he had written. These pious relics of our 
family I have here, my sister ; I brought 
them Avith me in order to prove to you, if 
necessary, that I was your brother. Alas ! 
the last lines written by our father pre- 
ceded his death but a few days — ” 

“ And do you know the cause of this hor- 
rible death r” 

“ My father having rendered many serv- 
ices to our master, by degrees Avas alloAved 
a little more liberty than the other 
slaves; he took advantage of this to prepare 


means for our flight. At our last interview, 
ho said to me, ‘ If the place where you 
lodge should some night take fire, do not 
be afraid or seek to fly, but wait for me.’ 
Do you remember, sister, the building where 
the flax was spread to dry ?” 

“Yes, the flax-house; it communicated 
Avith the stable where the oxen were kept. 
0 Sylvest ! how often Ave and our family 
have merrily passed the long Avinter even- 
ings there in separating the skeins of flax 1 
what joy presided over these labors 1 and 
our poor father was always thefir.st to give 
the signal for gayety.” 

“ Yes, ho had at that time, like Joel, the 
gayety of good and brave hearts. I was 
shut up, therefore, as usual in the flax-house ; 
my cage, built of thick oaken planks, was 
open on one side, which was secured with 
iron bars. I entered it by means of a door 
which AVas bolted on the outside by the Ro- 
man. One night, I was awakened by a 
thick smoke ; then I perceived a bright 
light under the door which led to the sta- 
bles, Avhich suddenly opened and my father 
entered through a cloud of fire and smoke, 
with an axe in his hand and freed from his 
chains — how, I never knew. He ran to me, 
drew the bolts of my cage, told me to fol- 
low him, sprang to the other side of the 
flax-house, already attacked by the flames, 
with a bloAT of the axe made a hole through 
the mud Avail, and put me through this 
opening, leaping after me.” 

“ And you found yourself in the narrow 
circular Avalk, surrounded by a palisade, 
Avhere the war-dogs were let loose at 
night ?” 

“ Yes, but this palisade Avas too high for 
us to cross. My father attacked it Avith his 
axe, the light of the fire shining full upon 
us ineanAvhile. At length it yielded. 
There was behind it, as you remember, a 
broad, deep ditch.” 

“ How did you cross it? It Avas impos- 
sible.” 

“ The ditch Avas twice my father’s height. 
He leaped into it, opened his arms, and told 
me to follow his example. I became con- 
fused and jumped too far. M^ father with 
difiicultY broke my fall, in which I sprained 
my ankle. The pain drew from me a pierc- 
ing cry, which my father stifled by putting 
his hand over my mouth. I lost conscious- 
ness. When I regained my senses, which, 
doubtless, was long afterward, the follow- 
ing spectacle met my eyes. Do you remem- 
ber that not far from the spring of the wash- 
house, there were two ola willoAvs, one of 
Avhich was hollow ?” 

“ Yes ; we fastened a rope between them 
for a swing.” 

“ In the holloAv of one of them were hid- 
den our family relics. These trees, which 
had formerly \Adtuessed our childish sports, 
Avere destined to Avitness the torture ot my- 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


153 


self and my father. After fainting at the 
bottom of the ditch, I was brought to my 
senses by an extraordinary pain, resembling 
an infinite number of sharp pricks all over 
my body. I opened my eyes, but the scorch- 
ing sun, darting on my shaven head, at first 
obliged me to cast them down. I felt my- 
self standing, bound naked to one of the wil- 
lows. I opened my eyes anew • opposite me, 
also bound naked to the other tree, I saw 
my father. Ilis body, which had been 
smeared with honey like my own, was al- 
most entirely covered with a swarm of large 
red ants, which had tlieir hills among the 
roots of the two willows. I then understood 
the meaning of the thousands of bites that 
I felt. The ants had not yet attacked my 
face; but I already felt them crawling on 
my neck. My first cry was for my father ; 
I then perceived that by turns ho burst into 
a frightful laugh, uttered incoherent woids, 
and shrieked with anguish; the ants were 
doubtless beginning to penetrate the brain 
through the ears and to attack his eyes, for 
his closed eyelids were covered with in- 
sects.*'* 

“This atrocious suffering, and, above all, 
the burning sun darting long on his bare 
and shaven head, had driven him mad. I 
cried, ‘ Father, help !' He no longer heard 
me. My cries attracted the notice of an- 
other Roman colonist, a neighbor of our 
master, who was reputed to be humane 
toward his slaves, and who chanced to be 
walking in that direction. He rushed to 
me, and, moved by pity, cut my bonds, 
dragged me to the spring of the wash- 
house, and plunged me into the water to rid 
m^ of the ants. My first sufferings ap- 
peased, I entreated the Roman to go to my 
father’s assistance. At that moment one^ 
the overseers came up, followed by 'mr 
master, lie consented, through cupidity, to 
sell me to the other colonist, but he declared 
in his fury that my father, having burned 
part of the farm-buildings the night before, 
in order to take advantage of the confusion 
to escape, should endure his torture to the 
end — and ho did so. Carried thence by the 
Roman, I was ill for a long time, but was 
treated with humanity; some Romans are 
not the tormentors of their slaves. The 
first time that I was able to go out alone, 
I revisited the willows ; I found there the 
bleached bones of our father.” 

“To die thus, 0 God!” exclaimed Sio- 
mara, wiping away her tears ; “ to die a 


* This frightful torture of being given up as a prey 
to the ants is thus described by Apuleius, in the Meta- 
morphosis', Book VIII.: ‘‘lie ordered him to be 
smeared frith honey from head to foot, and bound to a hol- 
low oak, which served as thedweilingofswarmsofants ; 
no sooner had the insects perceived the fragrant odor 
of honey exhaling from his body, than they covered him 
with innumerable bites ; they thus put him to death by 
slow torture, devouring his desh and entrails till the un- 
fortunate man became a flesbiess corpse, and naught 
remained but a skeleton bound to a tree.” 


slave, in frightful tortures, in the very place 
where he and his friends had so long lived 
free and happy !” 

“Like you, Siomara, I was frantic with 
grief at the thought; young as I was, I 
swore an oath of vengeance over our 
father’s sacred remains. I then took the 
family narratives from the hollow willow 
where they were concealed. I remained 
for some years with my master as a house- 
slave. At this epoch I learned the Roman 
language. Unhappily, my master died. I 
was put up at auction, with the other slaves, 
and was bought by a Roman procurator, 
who was making a tour through our coun- 
try. lie was violent and cruel, and made 
my life more wretched than ever; then he 
rid himself of me, and I passed from hand 
to hand, till I was sold to Lord Diabolus, 
one of the worst masters I ever had, and in 
■whose sei'vice I now am. A last word, my 
sister : almost two years ago, having ac- 
companied Diabolus to a villa adjoining 
that of a noble Roman lady, whose steward 
employs many slaves in her factories, I ipet 
a young woman, a Gaul from Paris, who 
had been sold after the siege of that city; 
wo fell in love, and one night, in the pres- 
ence of the sacred star of Gaul,Ave pledged 
each other our faith, the only raarriago per- 
mitted to slaves in their misfortunes. The 
gods have blessed our love, for Loyse, my 
wife, has hopes of being a mother. Yester- 
day, having learned by chance that the 
beautifi^ Gaul who had lately arrived at 
Orange' was you, ray sister, I pretended to 
flatt^ my master’s profligacy in order to 
fi-nd means of gaining access to you. Dur- 
idng the night that has just passed, I have 
been the witness of Irightful mysteries 
which for a moment unsettled my reason. 
Yes, for a moment, I was the sport of vis- 
ions or sorceries. Your spectre appeared, 
and froze mo with horror. You have 
laughed at my wild fears, and have said to 
me, ‘Brother, first answer my questions; 
then what now seems inexplicable to you 
will appear natural, and you will acknowl- 
edge that your sister Siomara has never 
been unworthy of your affection.’ My 
sister, in the name of the childish memo- 
ries which have moved you so deeply, in the 
name of our father whom you have just 
wept, fulfill your promise. Believe that 1 
pardon and pity the shame in which you 
live, and into which you have fallen in spite 
of yourself Alas ! what else could have 
been your fate, bought in infancy as you 
were by Trymalcion, that monster of licen- 
tiousness and cruelty.” 

“ lie I” replied Siomara, with a sweet 
smile, “ no, indeed, Trymalcion was not a 
monster.” 

“ What do you say ? — that horrible old 
man !” 

“Oh! he was horribly ugly, it is true; 


154 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


he even inspired me at first with great 
terror, which lasted for some days. And 
then,” she added, ingenuously, “ my feelings 
toward him became quite different.’’ 

“ What do I hear ? You, my sister, can 
you speak thus ?” 

“ Would you wish to see me ungrateful ?” 

“ Great gods, what does she say ?” 

“You, poor brother,” resumed Siomara, 
redoubling her caressing tenderness, “you, 
subjected from childhood to harsh slavery, 
with the spectacle of our father’s wretched- 
ness and suffering constantly before your 
eyes, must view servitude with hatred and 
abhorrence ; it is quite natural ; and then 
you compare with your present life the 
peaceful days of our childhood passed in 
our humble home. But how different it 
has been with me, Sylvost !” 

“What? Do you speak in this way of 
slavery ?” 

“la slave !” And she burst into a fit of 
laughter so sincere that Sylvest stood ap- 
palled. “ Know then that, on the contrary, 
before a week had passed, I, a child eight 
years old, had for my chief slave old Lord 
Trymalcion; his slaves were also mine, for 
I know not what charm had rendered this 
old man, so dreaded by all, a veritable lamb 
to me. Then you cannot imagine the mar- 
vels of his galley which took me from Van- 
nes to Italy. The galley of Queen Cleopa- 
tra was nothing compared to it. Fancy 
that my cabin, the most sumptuous of all, 
for Trymalcion had had it before g'.ying it 
to mo, was wainscotted with ivory in^.aid 
with gold, and the ceilings were covered, 
with charming pictures, which at first as- 
tonished me greatly. The carpet was com- 
posed of the plumage of the rarest birds, 
and equaled the rainbow in the variety 
and brilliancy of its colors. My bedstead 
and all the furniture of my room, carved by 
the Greeks, were of the finest gold; the 
beds, covered with Tyrian silk, were filled 
with the down of young swans, and such 
■was the fineness and whiteness of the linen 
sheets that a spider’s web would have 
seemed coarse and the snow gray compared 
with them. Half a score of female slaves, 
whose whole occupation it was to servo mo, 
were employed night and day in making 
mo dresses of the richest and most priceless 
Eastern stuffs, and daily presented new robes 
to my enchanted eyes. Necklaces, brace- 
lets, and jewels of all sorts, sparkling with 
precious stones, filled my caskets ; exquisite 
dishes and costly wines covered my table, 
and old Lord Trymalcion amused himself 
by officiating as my cup-bearer. If I 
wished to play, Persian dogs no larger than 
my hand, apes dressed in grotesque fashions, 
and little Moorish girls of my own age, 
were brought me for dolls ; or red and blue 
parroquets, trained to say Siomara, in silver 
cages with golden bars. When I was tired of 


these amusements, the old lord gave me onyx 
boxes full of pearls and precious stones, 
which I was very fond of throwing into the 
sea; this diversion alone probably cost Lord 
Trymalcion ten thousand aurei. On our ar- 
rival in Italy, the munificence that awaited 
me almost made me smile at my simplicity 
in being dazzled by the splendor of the gal- 
ley.” 

Sylvest had not the courage to interrupt 
his sister. Never before had he thought of 
this monstrous phase of slavery, these in- 
famous seductions, more terrible to a proud 
and upright soul than the hardest toil and 
the cruelest tortures, which break down and 
kill the body alone. 

“What!” said he to Siomara, with his 
eyes filled with tears of pity, “ what 1 un- 
happy cliild, at this tender age, not a regret 
for your father, mother and kindred; not a 
regret for the innocent life of your earliest 
years !” 

“ Oh ! yes, I wept bitterly at first for you, 
and for my mother and father ; but we can- 
not weep always; our tears at last dry up, 
and childhood is so fickle I Then, brother, 
I could not in sincerity long regret my 
coarse woolen dresses, thick leather shoes, 
and linen caps, and our games with pebbles 
on the beach, when reigning absolutely on 
the galley of Lord Trymalcion,'dressed like 
an empress’s daughter, and amusing myself 
by throwing pearls and rubies into the sea.” 

“ Merciful gods,” exclaimed Sylvest, “ I 
bless you for leaving made slavery so cruel 
to me, and putting on my neck an iron in- 
stead of a golden collar ; otherwise I should 
have doubtless worn this yoke of infamy with 
^oy, like my unhappy sister. So, opulence, 
idleness and pleasures make amends for 
erf-y thing. Family, modesty, country, lib- 
erty, the gods, exist no longer in your sight!” 

“ What do you mean, Sylvest ?” returned 
Siomat^, half extending her arms, as if a 
remembrance of weariness and satiety 
weighed upon her again for a moment. 
“At fourteen, I had long been the queen of 
those gigantic bacchanalian feasts that old 
Trymalcion gave every month for my amuse- 
ment in his vast subterranean villa on the 
island of Caprea, where, by a strange fancy 
of this noble lord, ten thousand torches of 
perfumed wax replaced the light of day. 
Provinces might have been bought Avith 
the gold expended on each of these saturna- 
lia, in which young and beautiful slaves were 
drowned, in porphyry basins filled Avitli the 
rarest wine, and children and young A'irgius 
were stifled under mountains of rose-leaves, 
mixed with jessamine and orange blossoms, 
to say nothing of a thousand other capri- 
cious inventions of Trymalcion, who thought 
only of contriving how to please me or to 
dispel my increasing ennui. 0 Sylvest! 
the orgies of Faustina are talked of in 
Orange; they are the innocent sports of 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


155 


children compared with the subterranean, 
nocturnal orgies of this old lord, who pro- 
longed his days to the age of ninety-eight, 
by taking a magic bath every morning, 
composed of the warm blood of a young 
girl.* The old man died, opportunely for 
himself and others. He had exhausted his 
inventions for combating the disgust and 
satiety which were undermining me daily. 
Happily — and I can tell you this, now that 
your story and your tenderness for me prove 
to me that I have found a brother, from 
whom I will never more be separated — 
happily, for the last two y<ars, I have found 
a remedy for this weariness, satiety and 
disgust of everything. 0 brother!” added 
Siomara, with an enthusiasm that lighted 
up her whole face, “ if you knew the keen 
and terrible pleasure that is found in cer- 
tain mysteries 1 If you knew — but what is 
the matter ? You turn pale and seem struck 
with terror. Sylvest, what is the matter ? 
Answer me.” 

Siomara spoke truly. Her brother turned 
pale, and his face expressed abhorrence and 
terror; for, in making these abominable 
revelations, his sister^s countenance had re- 
mained indifferent and almost smiling ; her 
calm, sweet voice became animated only in 
speaking of the keen and terrible pleasure 
which she found in certain mysteries. At 
these words, his doubts again became more 
poignant than ever. Remembering the vis- 
ion of the night before, he shuddered with 
horror, and abruptly recoiled from his sis- 
ter, whose arm till then had rested on his 
shoulder; then, raising his clasped hands 
toward heaven, he cried, as if unable to bi^- 
lieve what he saw and heard : 

“ 0 all-powerful gods 1 this unhappv girl 
was moved a moment since by the memo- 
ries of our childhood. She wept ^t the 
story of my father^s and my own jtortures. 
Compassionate gods ! is this again a vision ? 
Is this again a phantom in ray sister^s 
shape ?” , 

Siomara looked in turn at Sylvest with 
surprise, and made a movement to approach 
him, but he stopped her by a gesture of hor- 
ror. She fixed her large eyes on him, and 
said, in her sweet and tender voice : 

“ Poor brother ! what is the matter with 
you ? Whence comes this anxiety ? You 
saw me weep with emotion, you say, at the 
memory of our childhood, and at the story 
of the wretchedness and torture of our 
father and yourself — ’’ 

“ Yes ; and at the sight of these tears, my 
last suspicions vanished.” 

“ What suspicions ?” 

“ Have I not told you my horrible vision 
of last night ?” 

Siomai’a remained for a moment silent 
and thoughful ; then, addressing the slave. 


• See Pliny, the naturalist, De Hat,, Book II. 


without blushing or being embarrassed, she 
said in a low, confidential tone, “ Brother, I 
can now confess to you that it was not a 
vision, but myself, that you saw last night.” 

At this revelation, Sylvest sprang to the 
door, and perceived for the first time that it 
was closed. He was unable to open it, 
though he redoubled his eSbrts on hearing 
Siomara repeat, “ No, it was not a vision ; 
the Siomara of last night, Siomara the ma- 
gician, was your sister. Be not so faint- 
hearted,” she added in a tone of gentle re- 
proach. 

“ Compassionate gods,” he cried, with joy, 
struck by a sudden thought, “you have made 
her mad. Oh ! now you no longer inspire 
mo with abhorrence, unfortunate girl,” ho 
added, unable to restrain his sobs, and, ap- 
proaching his sister, “ I pity you, my heart 
is rent with anguish on seeing you, so young 
and beautiful, bereft of your reason. Yes, 
my heart is breaking, but it is no longer 
filled with indignation at the sight of a 
monster, poor lunatic !” 

“ I a lunatic, because my tears flowed at 
your stories ? Is it this that surprises you ? 
I was surprised at it myself, I confess. But 
these tears were sincere; why should I have 
feigned them ? What would have been the 
use of it, when I was about to make this 
revelation to you and tell you that I was tho 
magician of last night ?” 

“ Yes, it was you, poor creature !” replied 
Sylvest, lA the indulgent tone that is em- 
ployed toward lunatics in order not to irrU 
tpio them, “ yes, it was you.” 

“ Brother, you talk of weakness of mind. 
It is yours that is weak; you insist on deny- 
ing what you do not understand. Last 
night, through the treachery of the eunuch, 
you saw me transform myself from a young 
and beautiful woman into a horrible old 
hag. Did you understand this transforma- 
tion any better than tho tears which I shed 
just now ? Yet it was as real as tho tears 
which you saw, and which seem to you in- 
explicable.” 

At the recollection of this sorcery, of 
which he had been a witness, Sylvest be- 
came troubled anew. Whether mad or not, 
his sister was a sorceress — one of those 
monsters abhorred of nature, men, and the 
gods. Ho determined on a last and terrible 
test, and, repressing his emotion, said ; 

“ Poor madwoman ! if you are really a 
magician, tell me what you did and where 
you went the night before last ?” 

“I was at Faustina’s, in the temple on 
the canal.” 

“ How were you dressed ?” 

“ As you saAv me last night when I went 
out to perform my enchantments.” 

“ No, no !” exclaimed Sylvest, bewildered 
on seeing his last hope escape him ; “ no, it 
was not you, for this magician predicted to 
Faustina that Siomara would be her victim. 


156 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


Would you have made this prediction 
against yourself 

“ Who told you of this 

“0 horrible prediction! deciphered by 
you or your spectre from the wliite traces 
left on the purple carpet by the convulsed 
fingers of the poisoned slave.’’ 

“ Once more, who told you of this ?” 

“ Compassionate gods, have pity on me !” 

“ Since you know all, brother, learn that 
in order to deceive Faustina, whom I hate 
and have long hated — for this hatred dates 
throe years back, when we were both at 
Naples — I wished last night to give Faust- 
ina a false hope, the disappointment of 
which will deal her a terrible blow. By 
means of sorcery, therefore, I assumed the 
features of the Thessalian magician for 
whom she had sent, which I assumed again 
last night in your presence on leaving the 
house to work other magic charms.” 

“You confess it; it was you avIio caused 
that child of sixteen to die a frightful death 
in order to deceive Faustina?” 

“ Yes,” replied Siomara, with an inspired 
air, “ yes, that child died through my en- 
chantments. What her death-struggle re- 
vealed to me, Faustina, deceived by my 
false words, knows not, while I read myste- 
rious things therein that unfold the future 
before my eyes. Yes, that slave died, as 
others have died and will .jtet die. The 
agonies of the dying reveal to 'Hs terrible 
secrets, which are sure of accom^ishment; 
death has treasures for him who knows^Imw 
to find them. For this reason, I am^a 
seeker,” she added, with a more and more 
abstracted and inspired air ; “ I interrogate 
everything, for everything possesses a magic 
power. The flower growing in the crevices 
of the tomb, the blood congealed in the veins 
of tho young virgin, tbe direction which the 
wind gives the flame of the funeral-torch, the 
bubbling of metals in fusion, the smile of 
tho infant as he plays with the knife that is 
about to take his life, tho sardonic laugh of 
tho malefactor on tho cross — I interrogate 
everything; I seek, I have found, and I 
shall find still more.” 

“What do you seek?” cried Sylvest, be- 
wildered. “ What have you found ?” 

“ Tho unknown, the magic power of liv- 
ing at once in the past and the future, and 
of subjecting tho present to ray will ; the 
power of cleaving the air like a bird and 
tho water like a fisli ; the power of trans- 
forming leaves into precious stones and 
sand into fine g,^ld ; the power of eternally 
prolonging my youth and beauty ; the power 
of assuming whatever shape I will ; oh ! to 
become at my will a wood-flower, to feel my 
calyx bathed with the dew of the night, and 
to tremble under tho kisses of tho little noc- 
turnal genii, the lovers of flowers ; to be- 
come a lioness in the desert, to attract the 
huge lions by my roaring ; a silver-spotted 


adder, to twine with the black serpents 
under the blue lotuses that border the 
sleeping waters; or a turtle-dove, with a 
rainbow neck and red beak, to nestle in the 
moss with the cherished birds of Venus; to 
equal the gods in omnipotence, and have 
power to say, I will, and it is done ! There- 
fore, I seek ; I seek, and I shall find. 
Nothing, nothing shall stop me. 0 broth- 
er 1 if you knew the anguish and terrors of 
these researches by means of sorcery — the 
strange and uuequaled pleasures ! Last 
night, from the moment When, transformed 
into a Thessalian magician, I succeeded, by 
innumerable enchantments, in deluding and 
lulling to sleep the Avatchers at the tomb of 
Lydia, to the hour Avhen, in the silence and 
darkness of the sepulchre, I succeeded in 
gaining possession of tho body of the jmung 
virgin wlieroAvith to work my magic charms, 
I experienced such fears, tremors, and ec- 
stasy as. no human tongue ever could or ever 
can describe.” 

“ The Avrath of heaven 1” exclaimed Syl- 
vest. “ I abhor thee, Siomara, but I curse 
the slavery Avhich has made thee Avhat thou 
art. Thou, the innocent child of my mother, 
carried off in thy infancy by a demon Avho 
corrupted, depraved, and ruined thee, hast 
gone on from one kind of debauchery to 
another, till, satiated at fourteen by the 
abominations of Tryraalcion, thou.liast come 
to tho point of seeking the unknown and 
the impossible in murder, the profanation 
of tombs, and the frightful mysteries of 
sacrilegious magic ! Oh I by my father, 
who died in tortures; by my sister, atIio has 
become the terror of nature and tho gods, 
curses on slavery ! Implacable hatred and 
feret^ous vengeance on those Avho make 
slav^I” 

“ Yea, hatred, execration, vengeance, broth- 
er 1 theyVjkill, and the dead servo for sorcer- 
ies. Listen : it is said by the Egyptians 
that there are enchantments Avhich are pow- 
erful and infallible if Avrought by a son and 
daughter of the same father, Avho have both 
sacrificed in tho secret ceremonies of the 
goddess Isis. Do this, brother ; I will ini- 
tiate you, and ransom you from your mas- 
ter.” 

S^dvest Avas about to reject this offer Avith 
indignation, Avhen the conversation Avas in- 
terrupted by tho voice of the eunuch, who 
cried, as he knocked at tho door : 

“ Open the door, Siomara ; the sun has 
risen. A magistrate is hero with a band of 
soldiers, in search of a slave Avho has fled 
from the house of Lord Diabolus Avith a 
casket of gold. Open tho door.” 

“ I Avill inquire the way to your master’s 
house,” said Siomara. dVo will never 
again be separated, good and loving brother. 
I will buy you, at whatever price. Diabolus 
is enamored of tho beautiful Gaul — what 
I can he refuse her ?” 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


157 


Never could Sylvest have imagined such 
shame — to he redeemed at the price of his 
sister’s infamy. To escape this last blow, 
ho said to Siomara, while the eunuch still 
thundered at the door : 

" Brought up as I have been in the faith 
of our fathers, magic seems terrible to me. 
Nevertheless, I may assist you perhaps in 
your sorceries if you will promise to give 
me the means, through your magic art, of 
taking dire vengeance on my master and his 
fellows.” 

“ Brother, we will never more quit each 
other, and you shall have the choice of my 
most atrocious sorceries.” 

“ To satisfy my hatred, I must remain a 
few days longer in the service of Diabolus. 
I have niy plans. Swear to me, by the love 
we bear each other, to take no step with 
my master toward procuring my liberty 
till I see you again, which I shall easily 
find means to do soon. Do you promise ?” 

“ I swear it,” replied Siomara, radiant 
with delight, clasping her brother iti a 
tender last embrace, which he dared not re- 
pulse for fear of awakening her suspicions. 
She then approached the door, and, doubt- 
less, touched a hidden spring, for it in- 
stantly flew open. Before Sylvest had time 
to turn round, his sister had disappeared, 
either by an invisible outlet or a new en- 
chantment. 

“Here is the wretched slave!” exclaimed 
the eunuch, entering with the magistrate, and 
appearing to triumph with cruel joy over 
Sylvest’s expulsion from the house. “ The 
beautiful Gaul,” he added, “ignorant that 
this hang-dog had stolen a casket, which 
no one here has seen, was weak enough to 
believe the lamentable story of the rascal, 
who called himself her fellow-countryman 
in order to beg alms of her. Begone, gal- 
lows-bird 1 Luckily, Lord Diab^olus will 
settle accounts with you.” 

Sylvest quitted Siomara’s house under 
the charge of the magistrate and the sol- 
diers. He found his master waiting outside. 
Diabolus instantly entreated the magistrate 
to bind the slave’s hands and permit two 
soldiers to escort him homo, for fear that 
he might escape. Sylvest’s secret desire 
was on the way to accomplishment. lie 
was conducted to the house of Diabolus, 
who walked by his side without speaking 
a word. The silent rage of the Homan was 
more dreaded by his slaves than his gusts 
of passion. On reaching home, he told the 
two soldiers to wait in the vestibule; he 
then made Sylvest enter a low chamber and 
shut himself in with him. 

Diabolus was pale with anger ; and his 
hands seemed, despite himself, to clench 
from time to time with rage. "With knit 
brows, angry eyes and close-shut teeth, ho 
gazed at his slave in gloom}’- silence. At 
last, after having sufficiently enjoyed and 


relished his vengeance in advance, he said 
to Sylvest, whose hands were still bound : 

“ I waited for you all night at the door 
of the beautiful Gaul ; yes I waited for you 
all night. What were you doing in her 
house, while your master was dancing at- 
tendance outside ?” 

“ I was talking of you, my lord.” 

“ Really, you honest servant 1 And what 
did you say ?” 

“ I said, my lord, that, overburdened with 
debt, and shrinking from no base rascality 
or disgraceful act, you had sent her as a 
present a casket of gold, which you had all 
but stolen from one of your friends, a rich 
young simpleton. ‘ Now, in my opinion,’ 
I said to the beautiful Gaul, ‘ you cannot 
make a more profitable choice than to take 
this young simpleton and his gold. As to 
my master. Lord Diabolus, fake my advice 
and shut the door in his face; tJiis noble 
scoundrel will ruin you: witness the noble 
lady Fulvia, the flute-player Bassa, and 
all the other poor fools whom ho has re- 
duced to poverty.’ The beautiful Gaul list- 
ened to my brotherly counsels, as you may 
assure yourself by knocking at her door. 
Do not think that I am jesting, my lord ; 
no, this time I am not playing on your stu- 
pid credulity, as I have so often done. I 
have said sincerely what I think of you, 
despicable lord, master more infamous than 
the vilest of the vile !” 

Diabolus, although accustomed to the 
saucy rei)artees of his slave, did not at first 
reply, doubtless thinking that after this 
insolence, meant as irony, Sylvest would 
seek to excuse his fault. The last words of 
his valet, however, undeceived him ; una- 
ble to restrain his rage, he seized a stool, 
ornamented with bronze figures, and spring- 
ing forward, raised it with both hands 
to dash out the brains of the slave, who 
passively and joyfully awaited death. 
Thinking better of it, Imwever, ho checked 
himself and exclaimed, while still brandish- 
ing the stool : “ No, I will not kill you ; 
you would not suffer enough.” 

Sylvest mournfully saw his last hope fail ; 
but he was not yet discouraged. Ilis hands 
were bound, but his legs were free ; ho took 
advantage of this liberty to give Diabolus 
such a furious kick in the stomach that he 
rolled several paces off, crying, “Help! 
Murder I ’ 

“ Now,” thought Sylvest, “ he cannot fail 
to kill me. I shall not owe my liberty to 
the infamy of Siomara, and I shall bo safe 
from her sorceries, which would unceasingly 
pursue mo, and to which I should finally 
fall a victim.” 

At the cries of Diabolus, the two soldiers 
and several slaves, among whom was the 
cook, Fourspices, rushedinto the room, while 
their master rose painfully, his face con- 
vulsed with pain and rage. lie sank 


158 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


breathless into a chair, saying to the sol- 
diers, “ Seize that wretch. He tried to kill 
me.” 

The soldiers laid hold of Sylvest, while 
his companions in slavery, by whom he was 
beloved, exchanged gloomy looks in silence 
and consternation. Diabolus, by this time 
feeling his pain a little abated, rose, and, 
leaning against a table, after mature reflec- 
tion, said to the soldiers, in a calm voice : 

“ Carry this murderer to the vaults of the 
amphitheatre. In three days, the games 
will take place; in three days, he will be 
thrown to the wild beasts.” 

“ At last,” thought Sylvest. “ My hour 
will soon come.” 

Ilis companions shuddered with terror as 
the two soldiers dragged him away. Four- 
spices secretly made a sign with his thumb 
and finger, as if taking a pinch of snuff, to 
Sylvest, who understood that the cook had 
not abandoned his plan of poisoning. 

Before continuing this painful story, my 
child, I wish to tell thee why the noble 
Faustina should inspire thee with no pity, 
while Siomara, however criminal and mon- 
strous she may seem, has a right perhaps 
to some commiseration. 

Faustina was the personification of that 
savage contempt for human beings that 
is born of the unlimited power which the 
master arrogates to himself over the slave, 
the conqueror over the conquered, and the 
oppressor over the oppressed. Faustina was 
a most terrible example of those excesses 
which arise almost necessarily from idle- 
ness, opulence, unrestrained will and un- 
curbed desires, and are soon followed by 
satiety, which then begets refinements of 
barbarity and debauchery at which nature 
shudders. 

Siomara was the personification of the ter- 
rible depravity into which we are almost 
necessarily plunged by slavery when wo are 
held in it from infancy, and especially when, 
instead of being treated with harshness and 
cruelty, our bodies are rendered effeminate 
by all the enjoyments of luxury and our 
souls are poisoned by a precocious corrup- 
tion. The slave who is doomed to the 
rudest toil, and is beaten and tortured, un- 
ceasingly recruits his energy by grief and 
hatred ; the feeling of dignity is not extin- 
guished in him, for he dreams of rebellion ; 
but this abhorrence of oppression, the sole 
virtue of slavery, is lost by the slave who 
is weakened and enervated by abominable 
pleasures, and who often equals, and even 
exceeds, his masters in crime. 

Siomara, bought in her childhood and 
brought up by an infamous old man, whose 
monstrosity seemed to exceed the limits of 
possibility, undertook to imitate Trymal- 
cion, and surpassed him. Shame and mis- 
fortune to our race ! Yet the slave Siomara 
had not the choice between good and evil, 


while the noble Faustina, free and rich, 
could choose between the two. The one be- 
came a monster by condition, the other by 
nature. 


CHAPTER V. 

Sylvest is taken to the vaults of the amphitheatre of 
Orange.— Paternal advice of the turnkey and keepers 
as to the best mode of encountering lions, tigers, ele- 
phants, and crocodiles. — Advent of the festival. — The 
gladiators on horseback and on foot. — The Mercuries. — 
The Plutos. — The drinkers of blood. — The female glad- 
iators. — Faustina and Siomara. — Mount Libanus and 
Bibrix. — Diabolus and bis friends. — The slaves thrown 
to the wild beatts. — Dying songs of the Children of 
the Mistletoe.— The temple of the Canal. — The flight. 

Sylvest, having been led to the amphithe- 
atre by the soldiers, was loaded with chains 
and shut up alone in an underground cell : 
the slaves destined to the wild beasts were 
imprisoned separately, for fear that they 
would strangle each other to escape a hor- 
rible and prolonged death. From his dun- 
geon he heard the roars of the animals to 
which he was to be given as a prey on the 
third evening after his imprisonment, the 
combats of the gladiators and the wild 
beasts taking place by torchlight. Such 
had been the trouble of Sylvest’s mind at 
the close of the night that ho had spent in 
the house of Siomara, especially when the 
latter had offered to initiate him into her 
sorceries, that, forgetting Loyse, ho had 
sought, by insulting and striking his master, 
that death which he could not inflict on 
himself, having been bound from the mo- 
ment of his arrest at the courtesan’s. His 
mind regaining its strength in the soli- 
tude of his cell, ho thought of his wife and 
took farewell of her in thought, reflecting, 
not without regret (he acknowledges this 
weakness), that on the very evening that ho 
was to be thrown to the wild boasts, Loyse 
would be waiting for him, at all hazards, 
in the park of Faustina, as had been agreed 
at their last interview. He also regretted 
not having accepted Loyse’s offer a month 
before, when she proposed to him to flee. 

To certain slaves employed in the house- 
hold, in the factory, or in agriculture, flight 
was sometimes possible ; but they were forced 
to take refuge in deep solitudes, far from 
all inhabited places, where they often died 
of hunger. He had been unwilling to ex- 
pose his wife, in her situation, to such a 
death; but now, when his only hope was 
to be killed at the first bite of a lion or 
tiger of the amphitheatre, and thus to 
escape prolonged agony, he regretted not 
having braved the terrible risks of an 
escape with Loyse. Had it not been for the 
remembrance of his wife, the slave would 
have awaited the day of his death with in- 
difference; oubjugated Gaul might not, per- 
chance, break her chains as soon as ohe 


THE IRON COLLAR. ' I59 


hoped, by the rebellioa of the Children of 
the Mistletoe, and he would go to rejoin his 
ancestors in unknown worlds. 

Nevertheless, one fear at times caused 
Sylvest to shudder and gaze with anguish 
at the thick walls and stone flags of his dun- 
geon. Siomarawas a magician; he dreaded 
every instant to see her appear, and to he 
carried off by her through her enchantments. 
Lastly, another trouble weighed on Sylvest’s 
heart. As usual, he carried in the thick, 
strong belt of his braga the little golden 
sickle and the brass bell of Ilena and his 
father Guilhern, as well as the small rolls 
of tanned skin containing the family his- 
tory. On seeing himself destined to an in- 
evitable death, he thought with sadness 
that these pious relics would soon be scat- 
tered over the bloody sand of the arena, in- 
stead of being transmitted to his posterity, 
according to the hope of his ancestor Joel, 
the brenn of the tribe of Karnak. 

The turnkey, who brought Sylvest his 
pittance once a day, was an invalid soldier — 
an old Cretan archer — and as chattering as 
a Gaul, the good Joel would have said. 
This turnkey, who had long been an attend- 
ant at the games of the amphitheatre, and 
was hardened to the sight, always enter- 
tained Sylvest during his meals — and this 
not from any evil intention — with the num- 
ber and ferocity of the animals of which 
his friend and companion, the chief keeper, 
had the charge. On the night before the 
bloody festival, ho said to the slave in a 
paternal tone : 

“Ah, my son, a superb pair of African 
lions have just arrived, in the nick of time, 
for to-morrow. I thought of you ; for my 
friend, the chief keeper, says that he has 
never seen more ferocious beasts. Four 
leagues from here, while at rest and after 
having had their fill of meat, through pure 
malice they tore their Arab keeper to pieces, 
to whom they had been long accustomed, 
and who stood in no fear of them. What will 
it be to-morrow evening, when they have 
been without food for a whole day ? I hope, 
therefore, my son, that you will fall under 
the paw of one of these fellows; he will 
not make you suffer long. And, above all, 
I entreat you — for your youth interests me 
— above all, remember this : do not act like 
those ill-judged men who, when once the 
beasts are let loose in the amphitheatre, 
foolishly throw themselves down with their 
faces to the ground, and offer their backs to 
the animals. The fools ! their agony and 
torture last a hundred times longer, as you 
can well understand. None of the vital 
parts of the body being touched at first, 
the death is much slower; while, on the 
contrary, it is soon over — do not forget this, 
my non — by kneeling face to face with the 
lion or tiger, with your throat and breast 
within easy reach of his teeth ; you have 


a good chance, at least, of being strangled 
or ripped up at the first blow.” 

“ The advice is good ; I will follow it.” 

“ But remember, my son, that to kneel 
thus face to face with the animal, is only 
suited to an encounter with lions or tigers. 
If you have an elephant to deal with, it is 
quite different.” 

“ AVill there be elephants, then, at the 
festival ? I did not suppose that there were 
any of these animals in Orange.” 

“ The ediles, wishing to render to-mor- 
row’s spectacle unparalleled in Roman Gaul, 
have been to great expense; they have pur- 
chased the fighting elephant of the Nimes 
amphitheatre, which is said to be ferocious, 
and which arrived a few days since. And 
that is not all, for, by Jupiter ! our venerable 
ediles do things royally ; there will bo an 
extraordinary combat, such as I, even, have 
never seen but twice in my life — once at 
Rome, and once at Alexandria in Egypt.” 

“ What is this extraordinary combat ?” 

“ Before telling you about it, my son, let 
me give you a piece of advice. As to the 
elephant, when you see him rushing furiously 
toward you, try not to let him wind his 
trunk about you, but throw yourself flat on 
your belly and cling to one of his hind-legs. 
Ue will stamp to rid himself of your grasp, 
and in an instant he will have broken your 
bones and crushed you as flat as you would 
crush a snail under your boot.” 

“ I will endeavor, therefore, to address 
myself to the elephant in preference ; with 
him, there is more chance of dying quickly.” 

“ Yes, but you must be nimble and agile 
to reach the elephant first; he will be 
greatly sought after, and all the slaves con- 
demned to the beasts will rush toward him 
the moment he enters the arena.”* 

“ And does this extraordinary combat of 
which you speak offer a chance of a more 
speedy death V” 

“ No, no, by Hercules! I hope that you 
will not have to brave those monstrous ani- 
mals. At Rome, I saw three slaves have 
their thighs and arms taken off in an instant 
by the saw-teeth of the crocodile, as neatly 
as if by an axe.” 

“ I see ; this Roman festival will be com- 
plete — bears, tigers, lions, elephants, and 
sea-monsters. Will there be slaves enough 
to regale all these guests ?” 

“ Without counting those whom their 
masters no doubt will generously offer be- 
tween this time and to-morrow’s spectacle, 
there are forty-eight of you already ; that 
is quite sufficient.” 

“ Yes, there will be wherewith to divert 
those who are dull for lack of amusement. 


* PHov, the naturalist, gives these carious details con- 
cerning the elephant fights, and describes a combat with 
a crocodile and a hippopotamus that were brought into 
the arena. 


160 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


But this crocodile cannot fight on the sand 
of the amphitheatre ?” 

“ No j a tank has therefore been built for 
him in the middle of the arena, on a level 
with the floor, so that the slaves, in flying 
hither and thither to escape the wild beasts, 
cannot fail to fall into it. This tank will bo 
a hundred paces in circumference and two 
cubits in dejith. The crocodile comes from 
Romo by sea, in a galley fitted up expressly 
for him.^’ 

“ Like a proconsul, or a rich nobleman ?” 

“ Yes, my son. And, hold ! what inter- 
ests me most of all in you is the firm cour- 
age which you display. Of what country 
are you V’ 

“ I Avas born in Breton Gaul.^' 

“ By the valiant god Mars ! those Bretons 
dealt rude thrusts. I know them of old. I 
lost my arm by the blow of an axe, under 
the eyes of the great Caesar, at the battle 
of Vannes — a terrible combat, in which 
Caesar himself was well-nigh made a pris- 
oner.’^ 

“ Yes ; my father carried him off, armed, 
on his horse.” 

“ That is true ; I was there when the Nu- 
midian cavaliers ra» to the aid of Caesar, 
whom a kind of Gallic giant was carr}’^- 
ing off. What! was that Breton your fa- 
ther?” 

“ Yes ] he was the only one of our family 
that survived the battle of Vannes. But,” 
resumed Sylvest, fearing that the Roman 
might suppose that he wished to excite his 
pity by speaking of Gallic bravery, “ we 
are wandering from the crocodile who came 
from Rome in his galley, like a procon- 
sul or a rich nobleman. Where did he 
laud ?” 

“ At Narbonne, whence he was brought 
here in a huge vat filled with water and 
drawn by twenty teams of oxen. This 
morning, a live heifer was given to the 
monster ) my son, ho crushed its bones as 
easily as a cat would a mouse.” 

“ The slaves who are given to it, how- 
ever, it seems to me, can drown themselves 
before being devoured. That is a good 
chance.” 

“ No, they cannot drown themselves ; that 
has been provided for. The tank of the am- 
phitheatre will bo filled a cubit's depth with 
eartli, with a little water on the top, so that 
the head and shoulders of the slave will bo 
above the surface. As to the manner of en- 
countering the crocodile, I can give you no 
advice, having no experience on the subject. 
Besides, as the slaves are not given to the 
beasts like the last, while awaiting your 
turn, you will witness one of the greatest 
gladiatorial combats that ever was seen — 
eight couples on horseback and twenty-five 
on footj audit is even said, though this 
is not yet certain, that, to complete the 
festival several of our great laidies will 


fight together according to the new Roman 
fashion.”* 

“ Women, noble women?” 

“ Certainly, and the noblest. The keeper 
who brought the crocodile from Italy told 
us that he liad sometimes seen in the am- 
phitheatre at Rome five couples of women, 
the wives of senators and patricians, fight 
either together or with female slaves, with 
incredible fury; just as the nobles and 
kniglits often fight like gladiators with 
the slaves, who are unarmed, of course — 
slaves are only armed when they fight with 
each other to the death, like the profes- 
sional gladiators, such as Mount Libanus of 
this province and other swordsmen. Oh ! 
the evening will be magnificent. Then, 
thanks to the new remedy of the doctors,” 
added the turnkey, laughing, “the servants 
of the amphitheatre, and I am of the num- 
ber, will make a good day of it to-mor- 
row ?” 

“ In what manner ?” 

“ Are you ignorant of the wonderful ef- 
fects in the cure of certain diseases that are 
now wrought with the livers of gladiators 
just killed ? The doctors Avill be at hand, 
ready to pounce, like a cloud of vultures, 
on the warm bodies of the gladiators ; 
for the liver must be taken from the pal- 
pitating entrails to preserve all its virtue ; 
and the sale of the livers, to say nothing of 
the liberal gifts of the old men and epilep- 
tics, who also come hither to seek life in 
death (you will see how), constitute our 
small profits. But, by Pluto! all is not 
pleasure to us ; for the festival once ended, 
the torches extinguished, and the arena 
deserted and as black as night, oh ! my 
son — ” 

“ Why do you shudder in this manner ; 
what takes place when the arena is dark 
and deserted ?” 

“Then comes the hour for the sorcer- 
esses.” 

“ The sorceresses !” said Sylvest, shudder- 
ing, in turn. “Wherefore do they come 
to the amphitheatre at that hour of the 
night ?” 

“ That is the hour when, taking the form 
of hyenas, wolves, adders, birds of prey, or 
unknown animals, still more horrible, the 
magicians glide through the darkness and 
dispute with each other the human remains 
Avith which the bloody sand of the arena is 
strewn. Ah! how often, an old soldier 
though I am, I have trembled in my lodge on 
hearing afar off the frightful howls of the 
sorceresses, as they snatched from each 
other shreds of half-devoured flesh, and 


* “ The gladiatorial spectacles that year were as tnag- 
nificenc as those of theytar before,” says Tacitus in 
hii Annals; ‘ but tjo many illustrious women and 
senators degraded themselves by appearing in the 
arena.” “Not only men, but women also fought,” 
says Suetonius : Domitian, chap. iv. 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


IGl 


Leads torn from their trunks and lacer- 
ated by the claws and teeth of the wild 
beasts! 0 my son! big drops of sweat 
stand on my brow at the thought of the 
mysterious and horrible sounds that I shall 
hear to-morrow night after the festival.’’ 

The turnkey left Sylvest a prey to now 
anguish. Perchance, Siomara would come 
the next night in the form of a wolf to dis- 
pute the remains of her brother with the 
other magicians. He passed his last night 
in prison almost without sleep, fearing con- 
stantly to see Siomara. Thank the gods ! 
she did not appear ; doubtless, faithful to 
her promise not to address Diabolus for the 
purpose of buying the liberty of Sylvest at 
the price of infamy before seeing her 
brother again, she was waiting for him, 
ignorant that he was condemned to die in 
the arena. 

The evening of the festival arrived. Two 
hours before, the old Cretan invalid, instead 
of bringing Sylvest his usual pittance, said to 
him, “ My son, to-day you have a free meal.”* 

“ What is that ?” 

“ You can call for whatever you like to 
eat, to the value of half on aureus. The 
eighty slaves who are destined like you to 
the beasts have the same liberty with re- 
spect to their last meal. It is an ancient 
and generous custom.” 

“Yes, the ediles are doubtless anxious 
that the lions, tigers and crocodiles should 
be regaled on slaves delicately fed. For 
my part, I shall not give these noble ani- 
mals such a treat ; I shall eat nothing to- 
day ; they must take me such as the prison 
diet has made me.” 

“ This is very singular,” replied the turn- 
key, looking thoughtfully at Sylvest. 
“ There are some thirty of you Gallic slaves 
here, who are condemned to the wild beasts, 
and you are as firm as a rock, while the 
other slaves, Romans, Spaniards, Germans, 
Arabs, and Hebrews, are all — no, not all, 
the Hebrew slaves also show great courage, 
caring little for death, and saying that their 
Messiah will come some day — ” 

“ W ho is their Messiali ?” 

“ I know nothing about it, my sou. A 
man, they say, who, more fortunate than the 
other Jlessiahs that have appeared of late, 
will free their people from the yoke of the 
Romans, for the Romans rule the country 
of the Hebrews like all the rest of the world. 
But, in short, these Hebrews are also firm 
before the prospect of death, while all the 
rest, except you Gauls, have seen this even- 
ing draw nigh with increasing terror or 
frenzied despair ; you, on the contrary, do 
not look troubled, and some among you 
even smile. By Hercules! my son, whence 
comes this ?” 


* It was the cuftnm to give a repast of this kind to the 
slaves who were doomed to the wild beasts. 

11 


“ The reason is that our gods and their 
Druids have taught us that we never die.” 

“ Still jesting, my son ! What ! when, in 
a few hours, your bones will bo crushed by 
the teeth of wild beasts and your body will 
be torn in pieces, you will not die ?” 

“ Does the body die because the garments 
that cover it wear out and are replaced by 
new ? No, the garments pass away, and the 
body remains. Scarcely will the last shred 
of my fleshly raiment have been rent from 
mo'by the wild beasts to-night, when, put-i 
ting on a new body as we put on a now 
garment, I shall go to live in unknown 
worlds, where I shall rejoin those whom I 
have loved here on earth.” 

The invalid looked at Sylvest with an air 
of surprise, shook his head, and said : 

“If you Gauls believe this, courage is 
easy to you ; I am no longer astonished that 
you are such madmen in battle. Then you 
do not wish the free meal ?” 

“ No.” 

“ You are wrong j I have always heard 
say that the death-agony of a man fasting 
lasts longer than that of one with a full 
stomach. But do as you like. At sunset, 
I will come for you ; you will be able to 
boast, at least, of having witnessed one of 
the finest spectacles in the world — first, tho 
combat of eight gladiators on horseback, 
professional gladiators; next, twentj’-five 
couples of slave gladiators, compelled to 
fight to tho death; then, the rich, young 
Lord Norbiac will appear in the arena.” 

“Lord Norbiac to fight? And with 
whom ?” 

“ A mere farce ; but it is the fashion. He 
is to fight, armed to the teeth, with a naked 
slave, armed only with a tin sword, with- 
out point or edge ; our young lords delight 
in these diversions.* Then will come the 
combat of tho women, of which I spoke to 
you, and which'is certain to take place.” 

“ Between whom ?” 

“ Between a patrician, one of the most 
beautiful ladies of Orange, and a freed wom- 
an, a celebrated courtesan.” 

“ What are their names ? Oh ! tell me,”^ 
asked Sylvest, anxiously. 

“ The patrician is named Faustina; tho 
courtesan has only been a short time in 
Orange; she is called tho beautiful Gaul. 
Then we shall have a combat to the death 
between the celebrated Mount Libanus and 
Bibrix, the most renowned gladiator of 
Rome. Lastly, to close the festival, tho 
slaves will be given to tho wild beasts ; and, 
by the way, my son, don’t forgot my advice 
how to encounter the lion, tiger and cle- 


* The princely gladiators took good care cot to risk 
their lives. “ Commodus,” says Xiphilin, “ who boasied 
ofliav.ng killed or vanquished a thousand gladiator.*, 
fought only wi.h adversaries armed simply with foils.” 
These combats were cowardly farces, always ending in 
murder.” 


162 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


1 


phaiit ; as to the crocodile, I can give you no 
counsel.’^ 

Sylvest was left alone. He had learned 
with surprise of the approaching combat of 
Faustina and Siomara. For what cause 
were these women to fight ? Was Mount 
Libanus the object of this rivalry ? Sylvest 
hesitated to believe it; he remembered 
with what disdain Siomara had treated the 
gladiator, though she had dismissed him 
with a few kind words. But three jiays 
had passed since that time; and Siomara 
perhaps had accepted Mount Libanus as a 
lover through hatred of Faustina rather than 
through love for this stupid and brutal gladi- 
ator ; for Sylvest remembered Siomara’s 
confession. She had plunged into sor- 
cery because she was satiated with de- 
bauchery. He also remembered, shuddering- 
ly, and without being willing to believe it, 
the eunuch’s horrible revelation concerning 
Belphegor. He was not astonished, more- 
over, to see the noble Faustina, for the sake 
of the combat, forget the distance that sep- 
arated her from the freed courtesan. At 
Rome, the noblest ladies fought either with 
each other or with female slaves, and the 
position of a freed courtesan differed little 
from that of a slave. What surprised him 
was that Siomara should have consented to 
this bloody combat; perhaps she relied on 
the power of her sorceries to make her come 
off victorious. 

These thoughts kept Sylvest’s mind busy 
till the close of the day. At sunset the 
turnkey came for him. 

“ Shall I bo given to the beasts with my 
wrists shackled and my feet chained?” 
asked he. “ Are you not going to take off 
my irons ?” 

“ No, my son. You will all be led to- 
gether to a grated arch, opening on the 
arena and on a level with it; and as you 
will remain shut up there till the moment 
that you are given to the beasts, it is feared 
that meanwhile you might kill each other. 
Your irons will be taken off a few moments 
before you enter the arena. Come, my son, 
follow me ; I wish you good, and, above 
all, speedy luck.” 

On leaving his dungeon, Sylvest found 
himself in a long, subterranean gallery, on 
each side of which he saw the open doors 
of cells whence many of his doomed com- 
rades had doubtless issued before him. At 
the end of this gallery, toward which -the 
slaves proceeded, driven forward by the 
armed turnkeys and keepers, was perceived, 
through a strong iron grating, a bright 
light, produced by the illumination of the 
amphitheatre. Sylvest, filled with anguish 
at the thought of the combat between his 
sister and Faustina, was anxious to reach 
this immense ventiduct, from which ho could 
witness the spectacle, and pushed through 
his companions, who were in less haste 


than he. He was one of the first to arrive 
at the iron bars, from which he heard more 
and more distinctly the murmuring and 
tumult of an immense multitude, for the 
amphitheatre of Orange, like those of Arles, 
Nimes, and other cities of Roman Gaul, held 
twenty-five thousand spectators. 

0 my poor child ! the son of my Loyse, 
thou, for whom I write this story — thou wilt 
learn, from the description which I shall 
give thee of one of the anaphitheatres bull t 
by the Romans in our ancient Gaul, to what 
lengths of mad prodigality our oppressors 
went, enriched as they were by the labor 
of their slaves, in order to procure for 
themselves the diversion of human mas- 
sacres. 

The arena of the amphitheatre of Orange, 
designed for combats and tortures, was of 
an oval form, a hundred and fifty paces in 
length, and a hundred in breadth, and was 
surrounded with a wall massive enough to 
allow of the construction within its thick- 
ness of the arched chamber where the pris- 
oners doomed to the wild beasts were con- 
fined.* 

This wall, which was of such a height as 
to prevent the elephants from reaching 
with their trunks the edge of the platform 
that surmounted it, was ornamented on the 
inside with pilasters, which separated the 
niches filled with large marble statues, 
which surrounded the arena, and thus pre- 
sented a sort of terrace in its upper part, 
where were the chairs of the first gallery. 
In spite of its elevation above the scene of 
combat, this gallery was protected with a 
strong balustrade of gilded bronze, to guard 
against the bounds of the wild beasts. 
These chairs, extending round the am- 
phitheatre, were reserved for the richest, 
noblest, and most important men and 
women of the town. In this gallery Avere 
also seen, opposite each other, the throne of 
Augustus, the Emperor of Rome and Gaul, 
and the tribune of the ediles who had ar- 
ranged the festiA'al. 

Behind this gallery, and likewise follow- 
ing the oval shape of the arena, rose an 
immense number of marble seats placed 
one above the other, which were reached 
from the outside tlirough several external 
galleries, passing round the amphitheatre 
and connected with each other by staircases. 
In rainy weather or wJien the sun Avas 
scorching, the spectators Avere protected by 
means of the velarium ; but on the evening 
in question there Avas no need of this im- 
mense awning. The night was so serene 
and the air so calm, that not a breath of 
wind agitated the flame of the thousands of 
Avax torches placed in the gilded bronze 
candelabras fixed around the arena, to which 


* This is an accurate description of the amphitheatre 
at Orange. 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


J63 


access was had by four arched passages 
constructed under the seats and in the thick- 
ness of the outer wall. The two entrances 
at the north and the south were reserved for 
the gladiators on foot and on horseback. At 
the east and the west, ti .anting each other, 
were seen two grated arches, the one de- 
signed for the wild beasts, the other for the 
slaves condemned to be devoured. Under 
this arch Sylvest and his comrades had been 
conducted j and, standing by the iron bars, 
he examined with mournful curiosity all 
that he could see outside. 

The floor of the arena, covered thickly 
with sand, colored red in order that the 
traces of blood might be less visible, was 
strewed with a quantity of little shining 
particles, which sparkled in the light of the 
torches like thousands of silver spangles. 
A space had not been sanded, but was cov- 
ered over with a thick plank perforated 
with holes, beneath wliich was tlie tank 
where the crocodile was awaiting his vic- 
tims. This movable plank was to be taken 
away when the wild beasts were let loose 
in the arena. Here and there, mounted on 
platforms fixed against the wall of the 
amphitheatre, Sylvest remarked men dressed 
like the Pagan god Mercury; their heads were 
covered with a round steel casque adorned 
with a pair of gilded wings, and they had no 
other clothing than red drawers, and sandals, 
to the heels of which small wings were af- 
fixed. Each of these Mercuries had before 
him a bronze chafing-dish full of live coals, 
in which long brass rods were heating; 
these he used to ascertain whether the slave- 
gladiators, who, when severely wounded, 
often feigned to be dead in order to avoid 
fighting longer, had really ceased to breathe ; 
when their wounds were seared by the red- 
hot rods, it was impossible, under the in- 
tense agony, to counterfeit the insensibility 
of death. These rods were also used to 
force back to the combat the slaves who 
gave way before their adversaries.* 

Sylvest also remarked round the wall of 
the arena, and as motionless as the statues 
in the niches, men of gigantic stature, with 
long beards, dressed like Pluto, the Pagan 
god of the infernal regions, with notched 
copper crowns on their heads, and draped 
in black togas spangled with silver stars, 
leaning on the long handles of their 
heavy blacksmith’s hammers. They were 


* This horrible institution of Mercuries and Plutos 
vas one of tlio necessary accessories of all gladiatorial 
combats. “ When the gladiators trained for the combat 
fell wounded in the arena, for fear that they might be 
feigning dea'h after having sworn to their masters to 
fight, 03 they said, through fire and sword, the Mercury 
approached the bodies stretched on the ground, and as- 
sured Iiim.-elf, by searing their wounds with a red-hot 
rod. that they were really dead, when, if they showed 
signs of life, the Pluto dispatched them with his heavy 
hammer, and then dragged away the corpses. The red- 
h t rods also served to drive back the refractory to the 
combat.” — Wallon’t History of Slavery in Antiquity. 


styled the Plutos ; it was their office to 
drag the bodies from the arena, and to dis- 
patch with their hammers the victims that 
still breathed. 

Lastly/^ near the two entrances of the 
gladiators, stood the lieralds-at-arms, clad 
in white cblamyses, their heads encircled 
with scarlet hands, and holding ivory rods 
in their hands. By the side of these heralds 
were the buccinators, dressed in green doub- 
lets embroidered with silver ; their breeches, 
of the same color, were almost bidden by 
the tops of their great leather boots, wliicb 
came to the middle of the thigh ; and they 
held in their hands, ready for sounding, 
their large buccinoe, or horn-trumpets, curved 
in the fashion of hunting-horns. 

The festival was delayed till the arrival 
of the ediles, although the amphitheatre 
was overflowing with people. The multi- 
tude testified their impatience by cries and 
hisses. The lighting of the amphitheatre 
gave the spectacle a strange and almost 
sinister appearance ; the innumerahlo torches 
placed round the arena inundated it with 
light, together with the spectators in the 
first gallery and the seats nearest the focus 
of the illumination, which diminished in 
intensity toward the upper seats, so that the 
thousands of human figures in the highest 
benches of the amphitheatre resembled 
pale spectres, in the reddish, dusky gleams, 
scarcely distinguishable from the darkness, 
with the stars of the firmament glittering 
beneath them. 

Suddenly a great bustle was beard in the 
first gallery, where several places had 
been hitherto reserved. Sylvest soon saw 
them occupied by his master, Diabolus, and 
several young noblemen of his acquaint- 
ance, dressed magnificently, like liim, and 
who, like him, had just come from a pro- 
longed feast, for their heads were crowned 
with green vine-leaves, and they held large 
bouquets of roses in their hands. The 
riotous entrance of these young men, their 
noisy voices, their loud bursts of laughter, 
and the animation of their features, all 
showed that they were half intoxicated. 
Lord Diabolus leaned over the balustrade 
and looked round the amphitheatre, bowing 
to one and another of his friends in differ- 
ent directions. He happened to be just op- 
posite the place where those condemned to 
the beasts were stationed, and where Sylvest 
was standing behind the bars of the arch. 
Chancing to cast his eyes that way, he re- 
cognized his slave, and, pointing him out to 
his friends, shook his fist at him, laughing 
louder than ever. 

There are avenging gods in heaven. Just 
as Diabolus thus insulted his slave’s fate, the 
latter heard his name pronounced by one of 
his companions behind him. lie listened and 
heard the words in the Gallic tongue: 
“There must be one of our comrades by 


164 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


the name of Sylvest; why does he not an- 
swer ? I liave called him again and again ; 
is he deaf ? Sylvest! Sylvest!’’ 

“ I am here by the grating,” retnmed the 
slave; “I do not want to lose my place ; 
come here if you wish to speak to me.” 

In a feAV moments ho saw a young man 
approach him, branded in the forehead as 
a fugitive slave, who said in a low voice in 
Gallic : 

“ Is your name Sylvest ?” 

“ Y'es.” 

“ Were you a slave of Lord Diaholus, and 
had you as a companion a cook by the name 
of Fourspices?” 1 

“ Yes.” 

“ Fourspices has intrusted me with a 
piece of good news for you. I met him 
day before yesterday at the market : I have 
long known him — ho is a faithful and trusty 
friend. ‘ In two days I shall either be free 
in the woods or condemned to be thrown to 
the wild beasts at the coming spectacle,’ 
said I to him, ‘for to-night I shall attempt 
to escape, and my master has threatened 
that if ever I undertook it again and he 
caught mo, he would send mo to the am- 
phitheatre. Will you go with me ? The 
chances of flight are better for two than 
one.’ ‘ No,’ said Fourspices, ‘ I cannot 
go with you to-night. But if you are caught, 
brought back to your master, and sent to 
the amphitheatre, you will find among the 
condemned there a Gaul named Sylvest, a 
slave of Diaholus; tell him this in order to 
make death sweet to him : Our master has 
invited a largo number of young noblemen 
of his acquaintance to a splendid feast to- 
morrow, which is to last till the time of 
the spectacle, whither they will then repair. 
I have long been waiting for the hour of 
vengeance. Sylvest persuaded me to post- 
pone my schemes by assuring mo that the 
Homan armj’’ would soon leave Italy, where- 
upon the slaves would rise in arms — an 
idle hope, for yesterday it was said at my 
master’s that the Roman army is to remain 
in Gaul.’ ” 

“ What do you say ?” cried Sylvest, filled 
with anxiety. “ Is this news true ?” 

“ Yes, for the orders to prepare quarters 
in the suburbs of Orange for the advance 
guard, which was to arrive to-morrow, 
have been countermanded; this I know,” 
replied the slave. 

“ Woe! woe !” cried Sylvest, despairingly. 
“When will the day of deliverance ar- 
rive ?” 

“ ‘ Rebellion having become impossible,’ 
added Fourspices, ‘ I hastened to avenge 
myself and Sylvest at one stroke. I bought 
a slow but sure poison of a sorceress, which 
I tried on a dog ; it did not take clfect till 
some hours after, when it acted with terri- 
ble violence. At to-morrow’s feast, the 
mvst exquisite dishes of honor, which are 


not served till the close of the repast, will 
be poisoned by me, as well as the last 
amphorae that will be emptied. According 
to my experiment on the dog, Diabolus and 
his friends will expire in the midst of the 
festival. Tell this to Sylvest, if you meet 
him in the amphitheatre. If hois doomed 
to die before seeing Diabolus and his band 
expire, he Avill depart certain, at least, of 
being soon followed by his master and his 
worthy friends. The blow struck, I shall 
attempt to fly. If I am taken, I shall have 
made the sacrifice of my life in advance.’ 
With these words, Fourspices left me. I 
endeavored to escape ; my master, was 
watching me, and surprised mo just as I 
was scaling the wall. Three hours after- 
ward I was sent to the amphitheatre. I 
have been trying to find you, ever since we 
were assembled here, in order to keep my 
promise to Fourspices. At this moment, 
ho has doubtless left his master’s house. 
May the poison be sure, and may these ac- 
cursed Romans die in their holes like pois- 
oned rats !” 

“ Do jmu see yonder in the gallery, over 
the arch where the wild beasts are con- 
fined,” said Sylvest, “ that young lord 
crowned with vino*leaves, dressed in a 
clilamys of blue silk, embroidered with gold, 
and inhaling the perfume of the roses which 
he holds in his hand?” 

“ Yes, I see him.” 

“ That is Lord Diabolus.” 

“ Ah ! by all the blood that is to flow,”^ 
cried the slave, with savage joy, “ we shall 
also have our festival ! Laugh, laugh, 
young lords, fresh from your cups ; cast 
amorous glances at the courtesans — to-night 
the marble scats of the brilliant gallery 
will have its dead as well as the blood- 
stained arena ! Look us in the face for a 
moment, my gay and handsome lords, my 
proud Roman conquerors — you in your 
gilded balcony, perfumed with flowers and 
dazzling with light; we, conquered Gauls, 
your slaves, in our funeral-vault. Yes, look 
us in the face and salute us, condemned, as 
wo both are, to die to-night — we, under the 
claws and teeth of wild beasts ; you, writh- 
ing in the throes of poison.” 

The slave, in his increasing excitement, 
having raised his voice so as to be heard 
by the other Gauls, to render death sweeter 
to them, told them of the vengeance of 
Fourspices. At these words, almost all the 
slaves, who, till then, moody and silent, 
though resigned to their fate, had remained 
seated or lying on the stone floor in the 
shadow of the arch, rushed to the bars to 
gaze with savage joy on these young Roman 
lords, so merry in their cups, yet bearing 
within their bosom a speedy and terrible 
death. 

This savage joy was at first shared by 
Sylvest, who quickly reproached himself 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


165 


for it, remembering how Ins uncle Albinik, 
the sailor, who piloted the Roman galleys 
on the eve of the battle of Vaiines, had re- 
garded it as an act of cowardice unworthy 
of Gallic valor and honor treacherously to 
engulf in the ocean the thousands of Roman 
soldiers who had confided in his skill. 
However excusable the ferocity of Di- 
abolus rendered it, the vengeance of 
Fourspices was abhorrent to Sylvest, while 
he would have been the first to give the 
signal for an armed revolt to break the 
fetters of slavery, exterminate the Romans, 
and regain the liberty of Gaul. But when 
would the hour for this revolt arrive ? If 
he had not been firm in the presence of 
death, the news which he had just received 
respecting the stay of the Roman army in 
Gaul would have taken away all regret at 
quitting life. 

“ Happily,’’ thought Sylvest, “ men may 
die, but the nocturnal meetings of the 
Cliildren of the IVHstletoe will continue 
from age to age, thanks to the Druids ! 
till the day of justice and deliverance shall 
come.” 

A loud flourish of trumpets roused Syl- 
vest from his reverie; the buccinators, 
sounding their instruments, announced 
the arrival of the ediles. The magis- 
trates took their places in the gallery 
and the heralds-at-arms gave the signal for 
the combat. The buccinators again sounded 
their trumpets. A deep Silence fell on the 
immense multitude, as four couples of 
gladiators on liorseback (professional gladi- 
ators) entered the arena through the door at 
tho north, and a like number through that at | 
the south. Tho former were mounted on 
white liorses with green housings, the latter 
on black Jiorses, caparisoned with red. 
Each gladiator was armed with a light 
lance and a painted and gilded buckler; a 
bronze casque, with the visor down, and 
pierced only with two holes for the eyes, 
concealed his face; and an iron armlet ancl 
gauntlet covered his right arm; tho rest of tho 
body was naked, for ho wore nothing but his 
gladiator’s apron, which was fastened above 
the hips by a brass belt, from which a long 
sword was suspended, and his feet were 
shod with iron sandals. These professional 
gladiators were free ; they at least fought 
voluntarily like bravo men, as the ancestors 
of Sylvest had often fought through excess of 
valor alone, and not as unhappy slaves forced 
to slaughter each other for no other reason 
than tho diversion of their masters. Glori- 
ous and worthy is tho combat that is 
voluntary! Owing to tho weakness of the 
Gauls for bravery, Sylvest and some of his 
comrades, with their faces glued to the iron 
bars, forgot their approaching death, inter- 
csted, despite themselves, in the valorous 
combat, and applauding, with voice and 
gesture, the address and daring displayed. I 


A groat number of these horsemen were 
killed, as well as their horses, and not one 
left the arena without a wound. The com- 
bat of the mounted gladiators ended, the 
corpses carried out of the arena by tho 
Plutos, and the dead horses dragged off by 
richly caparisoned mules which Avere har- 
nessed to them, there Avas a moment of 
repose. 

Prolonged roars were then heard from 
tho back of tho arch opposite that Avhere 
tho condemned slaves AA^erc stationed, and 
which Avas grated like theirs, and divided 
into three compartments. Presently they 
saw four lions sloAvly enter one of tho com- 
partments, three tigers another, and an 
elephant, so enormous that his back almost 
touched tho ceiling, tho third and middle 
one. These animals, for a moment dazzled 
by tho bright light of the amphitheatre, 
did not at first approach the gratings, but 
remained half in the shade, Avhere their 
glaring eyeballs were seen and their sullen 
groAvls heard. A shudder of horror ran 
through the slaves ; the most faint-hearted, 
uttering heart-rending groans, fainted or 
throAV themselves on the ground, hiding 
their faces ; others broke out into impreca- 
tions against tho Romans, while others, 
gloomy but resolute, appeared insensible to 
the peril. 

The buccinators sounded their trumpets 
anOAv ; the heralds-at-arms opened tho bar- 
riers of the arena, and a great number of 
slave-gladiators entered, who had been 
offered or sold by their masters for this 
bloody festival, and who Avere forced ^ to 
I tight to the death. All AAmre casques of dif- 
ferent form ; some Avith tho vizors barred, 
others with Avhole vizors, or Avith one or two 
apertures for tho eyes. Their gladiator’s 
apron, of red or Avhito stuff, Avas fastened 
above their hips by a leather bolt, leaving 
their bodies, thighs, and arms bare. Soa'- 
eral Avoro an iron armlet on the right arm 
and an iron jambart on tho left leg ; all 
had a SAVOrd in their hand, and almost all a 
buckler on their left arm. A foAv had, in- 
stead of this defensive weapon, a net fringed 
with lead rolled around their arm, and de- 
signed to bo thrown OA’Cr the enemy’s head 
in order to obstruct his movements and to 
enable them to strike him more easily. 

Slavery often enervates tlio bravo and re- 
doubles the coAvardice of the timid, ilost 
of these gladiators by compulsion, far from 
feeling any hatred toAvard each other, Avere 
rather bound together by companionship in 
misfortune; the brave were indignant at the 
thought of employing their valor for the 
diversion of masters Avhom they abhorred, 
and of being reduced to the condition of 
fighting-dogs. No sooner had they entered 
the arena, than three of tho slaves killed 
themselves by falling on their swords before 
the heralds-at-arms had posted the antago- 


166 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


nists opposite each other* others, maddened 
with terror, threw away their swords and 
bucklers, and,-; bursting into tears, fell on 
their knees aud stretched their hands implor- 
ingly toward the spectators, who hooted at 
them with scorn. One old man ran and em- 
braced the feet of one of the great marble 
statues in the niches representing the Pagan 
gods, as if he would place himself under its 
protection. At a sign from the ediles, the 
Mercuries drew their long red-hot rods from 
the brasier and threatened the old man and 
the kneeling slaves, who, thus placed be- 
tween the fear of these horrible burns and 
that of R deadly combat, resigned them- 
selves to the latter. The conflict commenced. 
Some fought with the frenzy of despair, 
happy to fi^nd in death the end of their suf- 
ferings ; others, at the first wound, knelt, 
and, in haste to have it over, ofiered their 
throats to their adversary, who was forced 
to kill them, while awaiting his own turn, 
amidst the loud applause of the spectators. 
Some, covered with wounds, and Avith diffi- 
culty dragging themselves along, raised the 
palm of their left hand, according to cus- 
tom, toward the spectators, to implore their 
lives, forgetting that professional gladiators 
aloae had this right, and that every slave 
that entered the arena quitted it dead, either 
slain by the sword or with his brains dashed 
out by the hammer of the Plutos. Several, 
in fine, who were grievously wounded, 
feigned to be dead. One of these, a young 
and vigorous slave, had fought bravely • at 
the last encounter he fell, with his body 
pierced Avith wounds, near the grating be- 
hind Avhich Sylvest Avas standing. The lat- 
ter himself believed the slave dead his 
limbs Avero rigid ; his head, covered AvIth a 
casque Avith the vizor closed, fell back, aud 
ho lay motionless. One of the Mercuries, 
perceiving him, dreAV near Avith his long 
red-hot rod, and seared one of the Avouuds 
of the slave. The live flesh hissed and 
smoked, but the body lay motionless de- 
spite the torture. The Mercury, believing 
him dead, AvithdrCAV ; thou, on second 
thought, he returned and plunged his rod 
through one of the apertures of the gladia- 
tor’s vizor. The sharp, hot iron doubtless 
pierced the eye, for the slave, this time 
overcome Avith agon}^ leaped up, uttering 
unearthly hoAvls, took a few steps, and fell. 
Tavo Plutos instantly ran to him, and, strik- 
ing his casque Avith their heav’y hammoi's as 
if it had been an anvil, battered his head 
till Sylvest saw a nameless mass of blood, 
flesh, brains, aud bits of bone spirt through 
the broken vizor. 

At this horrible spectacle, Avhich crowned 
the butchery, Sylvest could no longer i-c- 
strain himself ; he burst forth Avith a loud 
voice into the chorus of the bards at the 
nocturnal meeting of the Children of the 
Mistletoe, “ Flow, floAv, blood of the captive ! 


Fall, fall, ensanguined dew ! Take root and 
groAV, avenging harvest !” 

Sylvest was not the only Child of the 
Mistletoe among the condemned ; other 
voices soon joined with liim, keeping time 
with their clanking chains, “ FIoav, Aoav, 
blood of the captive ! Fall, fall, ensan- 
guined dew !” 

These death-songs were soon drowned 
by a great tumult; the arena was strewn 
with the dead and the dying; not one of 
the combatants remained on his feet. Sud- 
denly, the heralds shouted “ The patients ! 
The doctors !” 

A great number of feeble old men, richly 
clad, some leaning upon slaves, others sup- 
porting themselves with their canes, in- 
stantly rushed into the arena ; middle-aged 
men and youths Avere also among these in- 
valids. All knelt or crouched by the side 
of the dying, and each, greedily putting his 
mouth to the wounds, sucked the Avarm 
blood that was pouring from them, some 
seeking in this blood the restoration of their 
exhausted vigor ; and others the cure of 
epilepsy. Here and there physicians, 
armed Avith sharp instruments, ripped open 
the still warm bodies, and took out the liv- 
ers, Avhich they used as remedies for dis- 
eases.^ The phj’-sicians supplied and the 
rich invalids gorged Avith blood, the Plutos 
dispatched the slaves that still survived 
with their hammers, aud, aided by the Mer- 
curies, carried ofi‘ tlio bodies, Avhile the serv- 
ants of the amphitheatre, by means of 
long rakes, mixed the blood Avith the sand 
of the arena. 

At this moment the Avild beasts, more 
and more excited by the sight of this pro- 
longed carnage, as Avell as by the Avarm 
aud acrid odor of the blood, redoubled their 
roars, and bounded furiously to and fro in 
their cages, shaking the bars with their 
enormous claws. To these roars of the an- 
imals to Avhich they Avere soon to fall a 
prey, [Sylvest and the Gallic slaves re- 
sponded by the chorus, “ FIoav, Aoav, blood 
of the captive ! Fall, fall, ensanguined dew ! 
Take root and grow, avenging harvest !” 

The first act Avas over, aud the interlude 
folloAved. During this interruption, Syl- 
vest and the slaves cast their eyes on Diab- 
olus aud his friends; all continued gay and 
animated. Diabolus had been one of the 
most obstinate in refusing lifecA'en to the free 
gladiators, who, Avhen wounded, asked grace 


* “ AVe see men in the amphitheatre drink the blood of 
the gladiatori,” Bays I’liny, ‘-seeking a remedy for the 
falling aickness in this beverage in \i h’ch life is still fer- 
menting ; they think that there is nothing more effica- 
cious for this malady than to drink warm bloud, thus in- 
haling the very source of the life of man, like the last 
breath of the soul, from the lips of the wound.” Sc i- 
bonius Largus, who lived in the time of Tiberius, savs 
that, though lie has little faith in remedies of this kind, 
he confesses that he has seen some good effects Irom. 
them ; for instance, when a particle of the liver of a slam 
gladiator is taken in nine separate doses. 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


167 


of the spectators by an imploring gesture. 
Sylvest, nevertheless, remarked that, owing 
doubtless to the slow and sure effects of 
Fourspices’ poison, the bright flush on his 
master’s countenance, excited by wine and 
the sight of the bloody festival, was begin- 
ning to fade, especially on tlie forehead, 
nose and chin, which were turning a waxen 
hue. The same change was visible in the 
features of the other young lords, who, 
however, appeared equally noisy and mer- 
ry with Diabolus; for, comedy having for 
a few instants succeeded tragedy, all wel- 
comed with shouts of laughter the appear- 
ance of their friend Norbiac, who made a 
false step and stumbled the moment he en- 
tered the arena. 

This ridiculous and cowardly Gaul, whose 
self-sufficiency and folly made him the butt 
of everybody, having heard it said that at 
Rome the fashionable nobles sometimes 
fought as gladiators, resolved, through 
vanity, to imitate them. A steel casque, 
with a gilt crest of towering height, 
covered his head, and his face was hid- 
den by his closed vizor ; prudently clad in 
iron from head to foot, with gorget, cuirass, 
armlets, gauntlets, euisses, jambarts, and 
boots of scale armor, he looked like a tor- 
toise in his shell, lie walked with diffi- 
culty, bowed down by his heavy armor, and 
carrying besides a complete arsenal, to say 
nothing of his gilt buckler, having for an 
emblem a lion painted in bright colors, 
holding in his right paw a scroll on which 
was written in large letters the name 
of Siomara. Not having renounced his 
love for the beautiful Gaul, he doubtless 
hoped to touch her heart by thus displaying 
his courage in the festival in which she also 
was to flght. 

Norbiac held in his hand a long sword; 
a dagger was suspended from his belt on 
one side, and a battle-axe and sharp-pointed 
mace on the other. Scarcely had he recov- 
ered from the shock caused by his false 
step, when it was evident, from the embar- 
rassment and hesitation of his movements, 
that the holes in his vizor, which had proba- 
bly been pierced too low, were of little use 
to him, for he tried two or three times, 
in vain, to raise the vizor amid the laugh- 
ter of the crowd. 

The slave destined to fight with Norbiac 
entered by the other door of the arena. 
Ilis gladiator’s apron was his only clothing 
and armor ; for his solo defensive weapon, he 
carried a large tin sword, a chiUrs toy. Ho 
appeared, however, young, agile and ro- 
bust. The hei’ald-at-arms and the buccina- 
tors gave the signal for the assault. Noi'- 
biac, covering his body, already defended 
by his thick cuirass, with his buckler, 
whirled his long sword around him, stand- 
ing on the defensive. The slave, armed 
with a useless weapon, remained out ot 


reach of his adversary’s weapon, postponing 
a hand-to-hand struggle till Norbiac’s arm, 
unused to handling a heavy weapon, should 
have become wearied. The whirling of 
the sword, indeed, began already to slacken, 
and hoots and jests were heard from all 
sides, especially from the upper seats. 
“ The windmill is stopping !” cried some. 
“ The steel manikin has run down !” said 
others. 

The Gallic slaves, from the depths of their 
vault, applauded the contempt and insults 
that were heaped on this cowardly perjurer 
— this stupid imitator of the Romans. The 
ediles, however, unwilling to permit a rich 
nobleman to servo any longer as a laughing- 
stock to the crowd, made a sign to one of 
the Mercuries of the arena, upon which tlie 
latter drew his red-hot rod from the fur- 
nace and touched the back of the slave, who 
had hitherto remained beyond the reach of 
Norbiac’s sword. The surprise and pain 
of the burn made the slave bound forward 
and fall, despite himself, on his adversary’s 
blade, thus receiving two deep wounds in 
his face and breast. Throwing away his 
tin sword, he rushed upon his steel-clad 
adversary, and, throwing him on the ground, 
snatched his iron mace from his belt and 
began to batter his casque, while Norbiac 
cried lustily for help, to the great satisfac- 
tion of the crowd. The strength of the 
slave, however, gave way with the blood 
that flowed from his wounds; he soon re- 
laxed his blows, and, letting fall his mace, 
raised his faltering hand to implore life, 
and sank by the side of Norbiac, whose 
shrill cries had changed to lamentable 
groans, and who attempted to rise. 

Though the slave was destined in ad- 
vance to perish according to custom, the 
spectators in the uppermost seats cried, 
“Grant the slave his life! Pardon! Par- 
don !” The spectators in the first gallery 
and the seats nearest it, including Diabolus 
and his friends, however, though they had 
been the first to laugh at Norbiac, thought 
it a dangefous example to spare a slave 
that had so soundly pummeled his master, 
and demanded death, whereupon, at a sisrn 
from the edile, a Pluto dashed out the 
wounded man’s brains. At this moment, 
Norbiac, who had at last succeeded in ris- 
ing, and whoso terror gave him strength, 
commenced running about the arena, in 
spite of the weight of his armor, extending 
his hands before him like a man whose 
eyes were bandaged. In this manner he 
fell into the arms of one of the heralds, 
who led him off the arena amidst universal 
hoots. 

The arena being left empty for a moment, 
the friend of Fourspices said to Sylvest and 
his companions, “Look at Diabolus and his 
friends; how their pallor increases, till they 
are almost of a greenish hue; and their eyes 


168 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


are sunk almost out of sight in the hollow 
sockets, which grow more haggard every 
moment! Just heaven! Fourspices’ poison 
is sure in its eflect, but these gay lords 
probably as yet feel no pain. But, look ! 
one of them puts his hand to his brow, as if 
his head were heavy !'^ 

“ And another has just sat down and is 
shading his eyes with his hands, as if he 
were dazzled or giddy !’’ 

A shudder ran through the crowd, and 
the names of Faustina and Siomara, simul- 
taneously pronounced, sounded in the ears 
of Sylvest as if uttered by a single loud 
voice composed of these millions of voices. 
Alas ! Siomara inspired him with as much 
abhorrence as terror ; but at this portentous 
moment, when he was about to catch a 
glimpse of his sister for the last time, he 
forgot the courtesan and sorceress, and re- 
membered only the innocent child of former 
days — the companion of his youth. 

I'he buccinators sounded their trumpets. 
All the spectators rose, and, eagerly leaning 
forward toward the arena, exclaimed, in a 
voice breathless with impatience and curi- 
osity, “ There they are ! there they are I” 

Their expectation was for an instant dis- 
appointed. This blast did not as yet an- 
nounce the entrance of Siomara and Faust- 
ina, but of Mount Libanus, who preceded 
them — not to fight to the death with the 
renowned Bibrix, for he was alone, and the 
combat of the two gladiators was not to 
take place until after that of the courtesan 
and the patrician lady. What business had 
Mount Libanus in this place — he who was 
perhaps the cause of the rivalry about to bo 
decided by the death of one of the two 
women ? The giant presented himself in 
the arena with a swaggering air, amidst 
applause and enthusiastic shouts. Save his 
gladiator’s apron, an iron jambart on his 
left leg, and an iron armlet on his right arm, 
his body, as hairy as that of a bear and as 
athletic as that of the Pagan Hercules, was 
naked and anointed with oil. By a refine- 
ment of vanity, his numerous 'scars were 
painted vermilion in order to set off their 
lustre in the eyes of the spectators. A 
casque of polished steel without a vizor — he 
disdained this protection — covered his huge 
head. With his left hand on his hip, and 
two short, light swords in his right, he 
walked round the arena, casting bold glances 
at the noble ladies in the gallery, who, wav- 
ing their handkerchiefs, cried, with ardor, 
“ llail to Mount Libanus ! Uail to the con- 
queror of conquerors !” 

But the trumpets of the buccinators 
sounded anew, and the crowd cried, this 
time with truth, “ There they are ! there 
they are !” 

It was they. Faustina and Siomara en- 
tered the arena, the one by the northern 
and the other by the southern door. Men 


and women, all, even to the ediles, rose 
anew, and a deep silence reigned tli rough- 
out the immense multitude. 

The patrician and the courtesan advanced, 
calm and resolute, with uplifted brows and 
confident glances, braving all eyes ; it was 
long since they had known timidity, mod- 
esty, or shame. 

Faustina wmre the light casque of the 
pagan Minerva, adorned with a tuft of slen- 
der scarlet plumes ; her short visor dis- 
closed her pale, bold face, black eyes and 
red lips, encircled by two heavy tresses of 
ebony hair, braided with pearls, the ends 
of which were covered by the ear-pieces of 
the casque. Her cuirass was a simple net 
work of gold, with large meshes, showing 
her dead-white skin, and imprisoning her 
supple and nervous body from her shoul- 
ders to her hips’, where it was confined by a 
narrow belt of gold, set ’wdth precious stones 
to which was fastened her tunic of scarlet, 
silk, reaching just 'above the bare knee. A 
sort of gaiter, of flexible scales of gold, 
reached to the ankle, and partially encased 
her foot, disclosing nothing but the tip of 
the morocco sandal, embroidered with 
precious stones. 

If horrible profligacy and the habitual 
dominion of the most ferocious passions had 
not imprinted on the features of this mon- 
ster a revolting expression of sanguinary 
and licentious boldness, she would have ap- 
peared possessed of sinister beauty — so ar- 
dent was her look, and so proud her brow, 
at the moment of this deadly combat. 

Siomara, through her armor# and her re- 
splendent beauty — for her features, to the 
profound stupefaction of Sylvest, wore at 
this moment their usual open serenity — pre- 
I sented a striking contrast to Faustina. Her 
Greek casque, of chased silver, adorned with 
a tuft of slender blue plumes, left her whole 
face exposed. Her fair hair, which had 
lately been cut quite short, fell in luxuriant 
curls around her face and neck. Her 
nymph-like body, like that of Faustina, w^as 
confined in a silver net-work, showing her 
rosy-tinted skin ■ and her narrow silver belt, 
her short tunic of cerulean blue, embroid- 
ered with pearls, and her gaiters of silver- 
scale armor, were of the same fashion as 
those of Faustina. 

The expression of Siomara’s face was not 
proud, immodest and gloomy, like that of 
her rival. Noj her largo eyes, as gentle as 
her smile, seemed to denote a calm trust- 
fufness ; and, on seeing bis sister so radi- 
antly beautiful in her warlike casque, Syl- 
vest asked himself again by what perpetual 
miracle, the pupil of Tr}'malcion,the celebra- 
ted courtesan, the poisoner, the magician, 
the hidecus and sacrilegious profaner of 
tombs, preserved this ingenuous and charm- 
ing ^xterior. 

The two women slowly walked around 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


IGO 


the arena and met at the place where Mount 
Libanus was awaiting them, with the short 
swords in his band. The perforated plank 
which covered the tank of the crocodile, 
and which occupied the middle of the arena, 
probably not having appeared an advan- 
tageous spot for the combat, the gladiator 
had chosen a place so near the arch, be- 
heath which the slaves were awaiting death, 
that, when Faustina and Siomara joined 
Mount Libanus, Sylvest was hut a few steps 
from liis sister. Yielding to an involuntary 
impulse, he fell hack into the shade, in 
order to escape Siomara’s eyes, hut mingled 
affection, terror and terrible curiosity soon 
brought him to the grating. A power 
above his will kept him there ; he could thus 
more attentively observe the face of Mount 
Libanus, whose airs of swaggering brutality 
and efi’routery were succeeded by a per- 
ceptible emotion. Pale and troubled, with 
a sword in each hand, he offered the left to 
Faustina and the right to Siomara ; but his 
hands trembled so much when the women 
prepared to take the weapons, that his in- 
creasing anxiety and agitation attracted the 
notice of Faustina, who cast on him one of 
her dark and piercing glances, and, after re- 
flecting, waved away the sword that be of- 
fered her and attempted to take the other. 

“ No,” said Mount Libanus, recoiling al- 
most with affright, “ not that one, but tbe 
other.” 

“ Why not ?” asked Faustina, with an air 
of gloomy distrust. 

“ Because, being the judge of the com- 
bat,” stammered the giant, “ it belongs to 
me to give the weapons.” 

Siomara, who had paid no attention to 
this discussion, having fixed her eyes, before 
it commenced, on the’arch where the slaves 
were confined, suddenly recognized Sylvest. 
Springing toward the grating and seizing 
both her brothers hands through the bars, 
she cried, in a voice of emotion, while large 
tears filled her eyes : 

“ You here, brother ! Y"ou condemned!” 

“ Yes, I am about to die. The gods grant 
that you may die likoAvise, and that, before 
the evening is past, we may rejoin together 
our kindred who have gone before us to un- 
known spheres 1 hlay Hesus and our parents 
pardon you, as I do 1” 

“ Trusting in your promise, I awaited 
your coming. Alas! that I believed your 
word. You would now have been at lib- 
erty.” 

“ It was to escape this shameful liberty 
that I wished to die.” 

Siomara, at first excited, suddenly became 
smiling and almost joyous. She said to her 
brother, “Listen — bend down your ear.” 
Ho obeyed mechanically. She whispered, 
“ Brother, you shall not die. Faustina, 
through a magic spell, will fall beneath my 
sword. Diabolus is yonder ; with one word 


he can snatch you from punishment. He 
will speak this word after tho death of 
Faustina. Courage, brother ! this evening 
we shall sup together, and you will be free.” 

With these words, tho smiling Siomara 
made a sign of intelligence to her brother, 
threw him a farewell kiss from the tips of 
her fingers, and hastened to rejoin Faustina 
and Mount Libanus, amidst a murmur of 
surprise in tho amphitheatre at this brief 
conversation between tho beautiful Gaul and 
one of the condemned slaves. 

When Siomara returned to Mount Libanus, 
tho latter, paler and more agitated than ever, 
held but one sword in his hand, while his 
stolid face at once depicted embarrassment, 
grief, and terror. 

“ Give me my sword !” said Siomara. 

The {Radiator appeared to make a violent 
effort at self-control, and, in ^ite of an ab- 
rupt and threatening gesture from Faustina, 
repulsed the hand which Siomara extended 
to grasp the weapon, exclaiming, “ No, no, 
not that sword !” With his only remaining 
eye, ho strove to make her understand his 
meaning, but, wholly engrossed by an- 
other thought, she did not heed the sighs of 
tho gladiator, but turned toward the gallery 
where Diabolus and his friends were seated, 
and, saluting tho Roman with look and 
gesture, she plucked one of tho slender blue 
plumes from her silver casque, took it be- 
tween her fingers, and carried it to her ro.sy 
lips, then gracefully blew it in tho direction 
of the gallery, saying aloud, “ To thee, 
handsome Diabolus !” after which she cast 
a stealthy glance at her brother. 

Sylvest understood, with a shudder, that 
his sister had given Diabolus tho pledge of 
an infamous bargain, of which his own lib- 
erty was to be tho price; for, as Siomara 
had said to him, any master had the right at 
the last moment to withdraw his slave from 
punishment. Faustina slain, tho beautiful 
Gaul, during the combat between Mount Li- 
banus and Bibrix, would ask Syl vest’s lib- 
erty of Diabolus; she would obtain the 
favor by an infamous promise, and he would 
be •withdrawn from the vault. 

While Sylvest was in despair at the 
thought, preferring death to such a deliver- 
ance, all eyes were fixed on Diabolus. A 
murmur of envy arose from tho young no- 
bles at the tempting appeal of tho beautiful 
Gaul, hitherto disdainful of all homage. 
Diabolus, like most of his table compan- 
ions, had become of a greenish pallor ; bat 
whether ho did not yet feel tho effects of 
the poison, or whether intoxicated with 
pride by the flattering address of tho cele- 
brated courtesan, ho was unmindful of tho 
first attack of pain, ho leaned, radiant 
with joy, from the balcony, and, pressing to 
his lips tho bouquet of roses which ho held, 
threw it into the arena, exclaiming, “ Vic- 
tory and love to the beautiful Gaul !” 


170 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


The courtesan picked up the bouquet and 
carried it to her lips in turn; then, placing 
it at the foot of one of the gigantic marble 
statues that filled the deep niches in the 
wall of the arena, she cast a last glance at 
her brother, and, returning to Mount Liba- 
nus, said to him impatiently, “My sword, 
my sword 

The gladiator this time did not refuse the 
weapon to the courtesan ; on the contrary, 
he placed it in her hand with a terrible 
glance. 

Sylvest divined the whole. He had wit- 
nessed Mount Libanus’ protestations of love 
for Siomara ; but at the moment when, in 
the hope of obtaining her brother’s liberty, 
she had so openly courted Diabolus, the 
features of the gladiator, at first as agitated 
as moved, suddenly expressed frightffll jeal- 
ousy and ferocity, while Faustina, as mo- 
tionless as a spectre, with her left hand on 
her hip and the point of her sword resting 
on the tip of her sandal, smiled with an air 
of sinister triumph. 

Sylvest no longer had any doubts ; one of 
the two swords held by the gladiator was 
enchanted, owing to the spells of Siomara. 
In concert with her. Mount Libanus knew 
the magic weapon ; but, his confusion hav- 
ing aroused the suspicions of Faustina, she 
had refused the sword that he offered her, 
and had taken the other, almost in spite of 
him. The gladiator now rejoiced at this 
choice as much as he had at first been ap- 
palled by it ; to such a point had his love 
for the courtesan been changed to furious 
hatred, through jealousy of Diabolus. 

Scarcely had Siomara taken the sword, 
than she said in a low voice to Faustina, 
“ Are you ready ?” 

“ I am ready,” answered the patrician ; 
adding, in a low voice, but loud enough for 
Sylvest to hear, “ Do you remember our 
conditions ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ iMount Libanus is mine if I kill you ; 
yours if you kill me?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Dead or alive, you belong to me, Sio- 
mara, if you cannot continue the combat 
after the first wound ?” 

“ And if 1 kill you, Faustina, none but I 
will enter your tomb for the death-watch ?” 

“ No ; I have given orders to that effect, 
and have handed you the keys of my family 
sepulchre.” 

“ Come on, noble Faustina.” 

“ Como on, beautiful Siomara.” 

On a sign from Mount Libanus, the two 
young women rushed on each other with 
uplifted weapons, Siomara still smiling as 
it certain of triumph, Faustina also con- 
fident, but Avith an implacable look. At 
the first clash of the swords, that of the 
courtesan’s broke short off to the hilt. Syl- 
vest could not restrain a cry ; ho saw the 


Roman, with a ferocious burst of laughter, 
plunge her sword into Siomara’s side, cry- 
ing, “Take that, thou false Thessalian sor- 
ceress !” 

The wound was grave, perhaps mortal. 
The courtesan let fall the hilt of her broken 
weapon, sank on her knees, and cast a last 
look toward Sylvest, exclaiming, in a . 
faltering voice, “Poor brother!” With 
these words, she rolled backward on the 
sand, while her casque, falling off, left her 
fair head bare, and the blood, gushing from 
her wound, stained the silver meshes of her 
cuirass. 

Faustina, roaring with joy, fell on her 
rival like a tigress on its prey, and, rage and 
hatred redoubling her strength, twined her 
frail, nervous arms about her body, raised 
her from the ground, and carried her off as 
if she had been a child, crying to the 
gladiator, in a loud voice, “ Mount Libanus, 

I will await you at the temple of the 
canal.” And Faustina disappeared with 
her victim in the shadow of the northern 
arch, amidst the frenzied acclamations of 
the spectators. 

This had passed so rapidly that Sylvest 
thought himself the sport of a dream. lie 
felt a sort of vertigo, from which ho Avas 
aroused by the clanking of the chains 
which the turnkey and the armed soldiers 
were knocking off his companions’ feet and 
hands. The time had come to unshackle 
the slaves condemned to the wild boasts, 
Avhich were growling fiercely. 

Sylvest stood motionless by the side of 
the grating, with a vacant stare. Two 
of the turnkeys seized him and knocked off 
his chains. Weeping, in spite of himself, 
at his sister’s death, although he had 
desired it, he sank on the stone floor 
of the vault, with his face buiied in his 
hands, indifferent to what was passing in 
the arena, where Mount Libanus and Bibrix 
were then fighting. From time to time 
loud murmurs announced the var 3 dug 
chances of the combat. “ Courage, Mount 
Libanus I courage !” cried some ; “ Courage, 
Bibrix I courage !” cried others. At length, 
after a considerable time, a tremendous 
shout of “ Bibrix is victorious 1” made the 
walls of the amphitheatre tremble. Mount 
Libanus had just succumbed in the deadly 
struggle. 

All at once Sylvest was violently pushed 
about and trodden on by his companions, 
who were flying pell-mell. lie rose, not 
without difiiculty, to avoid being crushed 
by them, and saAv, rapidly approaching 
from the other end of tho vault, a sort of 
fiery wall, of about tho height of a man, 
and barring the Avhole width of tho arch. 
This immense bronze plate, heated by 
means of braziers on rollers, drove the 
condemned before it. The grating which 
had hitherto separated them from the 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


in 


arena had been sunk to a level with tho 
ground by means of a groove and pullsy, 
so that the unfortunates, driven forward by 
the fiery wall, could only escape the most 
horriblo burns by leaping into tho arena 
where tho wild beasts were bounding to and 
fro, and from which Plutos, Mercuries, 
heralds, and buccinators had disappeared, 
after carrying off the corpse of Mount 
Libanus, and closing the two entrances at 
the north and south by means of doors 
barred with iron. 

The moment of torture come, Sylvest, re- 
solved to end his life valiantly with his 
companions, exclaimed, “ Children of the 
Mistletoe, will you die like worthy sons of 
old Gaul V’ 

“Yes, yes,'' repeated numerous voices. 

“ Brothers, sing with me, in the face of 
death, “ ‘ Flow, flow, blood of the captive ! 
Fall, fall, ensanguined dew ! Take root and 
grow, avenging harvest !' " 

The Children of the Mistletoe, together 
with the other Gallic slaves, headed by 
Sylvest, rushed into the arena, thundering 
forth the bard's chorus in their native 
tongue. 

This burst of song and the appearance of 
this troop of men at first took the animals 
by surprise. Profiting by their hesitation 
and remembering the counsels of tho turn- 
key, Sylvest, seeing that the elephant had 
betaken himself to one of the niches in the 
wall, adorned with a gigantic marble statue, 
a few paces distant from him, gave a last 
thought to his wife Loyse and also to Sio- 
mara, ran straight to tho animal, and in 
the hope of soon being stamped upon and 
crushed by him, threw himself flat on his 
belly, and crept under the huge beast in 
order to cling with both hands to one of his 
great feet. 

At that instant cries, at first stifled, then 
more and more lamentable, among which 
Sylvest distinguished the voice of his mas- 
ter, rose from tho part of the gallery Avhero 
Diabolus and his friends were sitting. 
These cries were accompanied with an ex- 
traordinary tumult in tlio amphitheatre. A 
thought instantly darted like lightning 
across Sylvest's niind — a cowardly thought, 
ho confesses, for it prompted him to attempt 
to escape tho torture which his companions 
were about to suffer, but with this thought 
came the remembrance of his wife and 
child. 

The eyes of all the spectators, instead of 
being turned toward the arena, were nat- 
urally fixed at this moment on Diabolus and 
his friends, then, doubtless, writhing in the 
agonies of death by poison before tho gaze 
of the astonished crowd. Tho huge body 
of the elephant, posted against one of the 
niches in the wall, partially concealed it ; 
and at the risk of being discovered later, 
alter creeping under the belly of the animal 


instead of seizing one of his hind-legs, he 
crawled between them, climbed on tho base 
of the niche, and succeeded in crouching 
behind a marble statue twice his height, and 
fortunately representing a female figure in 
flowing drapery. 

Scarcely was he concealed when the con- 
fusion in tho amphitheatre was quieted, and 
he heard the exclamation, “Here are the 
doctors. Carry away the dying men; their 
agonies interrupt tho festival." 

Diabolus and his expiring friends were, 
doubtless, transported from the gallery, for 
silence was restored by degrees — a silence 
that was speedily broken by the fresh roars 
of the wild beasts, which had recovered 
from their first surprise. 

The carnage began ; amidst the growls of 
the animals, the cries of agony of some of 
tho slaves who had already fallen under the 
claws of the lions and tigers, and the im- 
precations of tho victims as yet untouched, 
some of whom, maddened with terror, en- 
treated the furious brutes to spare their 
lives, here and there resounded tho piercing 
voices of the Children of the Mistletoe, 
singing even in the fangs of the ferocious 
beasts, “ Flow, floAv, blood of the captive! 
Fall, fall, ensanguined dew ! Take root and 
grow, avenging harvest 1" 

From time to time, Sylvest saw from his 
retreat, no longer masked by the elephant, 
which was then in the middle of the arena, 
a lion or a tiger bound forward in pursuit 
of a slave, whom he threw down with 
his paws, burying his nails in the flesh ; then 
crouching or stretching himself on his prey, 
he devoured it or tore it to pieces. 

Sylvest saw among others — and the mem- 
ory is horrible! — a huge, tawny lion, 
with a mane almost black, rush upon the 
friend of Fourspices. To die more speedily, 
the unfortunate Gaul had fallen upon his 
knees ; but in his terror he buried his face 
in his hands to hide the monster from his 
sight. Tho lion, with one stroke of tho paw 
on the crown of the slave's head, threw his 
face to the ground and held it there ; then 
planting the nails of tho other paw in his 
loins, drew his prey transversely toward him. 
Having him thus secure, the brute Avas in no 
haste to devour him ; panting and breath- 
less, ho stretched himself his whole length 
on the sand, with his huge head on tlie 
body of tho slave, while a bloody foam 
trickled from his open jaws and lolling 
tongue. The Gaul was still alive and utter- 
ing inarticulate cries; his arms and legs 
Avrithed and beat the ground , and from tho 
convulsions of his whole body it was evi- 
dent that ho was striving, but in vain, to 
escape the atrocious torture. Suddenly, the 
lion's mane bristled, and his tail laslied tho 
sand ; he reared up on his hind-feot, still 
holding tho Gaul with his fore-paws; then, 
suddenly lowering his head, he bit his prey 


172 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


through the middle of the spine and crushed 
it in his teeth, growling fiercely meanwhile. 
A black and yellow spotted tiger, of equal 
size with the lion, approached to dispute 
with him his victim. The lion, without let- 
ting go bis bold, raised bis paw, tbo claws of 
wbicb had been buried in the skull of the 
slave, and struck them into, the muzzle of 
the tiger. The latter, despite the wound, 
opened bis jaws, seized the bead of the 
Gaul wbicb the lion was bolding with tbo 
other paw, and, with bristling back and 
bent muzzle, violently drew it toward him, 
while the lion, with bis teeth still fixed in 
the middle of the back, pulled in tbo op- 
posite direction. Both rose from their 
crouching position to end the struggle by 
snatching tlie body in two. The slave had 
not yet ceased to live; raised from the 
ground by the two ferocious beasts that dis- 
puted him with each other, his limbs still 
writhed convulsively. Tbo huge body of 
the elephant, passing before Sylvest, con- 
cealed from him tbo frightful mutilation. 

The furious elephant bold in bis trunk a 
young slave, a child of fifteen at most, who 
writhed in the air, uttering terrible cries. 
The elephant, in bis rage, twice struck the 
poor bruised body violently against the 
wall ; when bo had thus broken the bones 
of the unfortunate, bo threw the child 
under bis feet, tried to pierce him Avith bis 
tusks, and finally stamped on him angrily. 
While thus venting bis rage on tlw3 bleed- 
ing remains, now nothing but a shapeless 
mass of human flesh, he stumbled and 
struck his bind-leg against a slave Avho was 
flying from a tiger, and who passed at that 
moment between him and tbo tank of the 
crocodile. The slave was precipitated by 
the shock into the slimy bed of the reptile, 
as many others before him had been in 
their bewildered flight, and Sylvest in- 
stantly heard the shrieks of the unfortu- 
nate as ho was cut to pieces by the notched 
toetli of the crocodile. 

This carnage lasted till naught remained 
of the slaves given to the wild beasts but 
half-gnawed l)one3 or nameless and shape- 
less remains. During the whole duration 
of this Roman festival, the multitude, half 
drunk with the bloody spectacle, cheered it 
with shouts and acclamations. 

At length the torches, almost burned to 
the socket, gave but a flickering light, 
while the lions and tigers, gorged with 
human flesh, and dull and silent, stretched 
their huge bodies in the bloody mire of the 
arena, yawning, blowing, and licking their 
enormous paAVs, before passing them over 
their blood-stained muzzles. 

Sylvest heard the distant murmur of the 
croAvd quitting the amphitheatre. Present- 
ly, the keepers appeared by the north and 
south doors, dressed in heavy iron armor, 
which was proof against the bite of the ani- 


mals, and armed with long tridents, red-hot 
from the furnace. The wearied and gorged 
beasts, accustomed to the voice of the keep- 
ers, and, above all, terrified by the pricks 
of the tridents, Avere driven by the light of 
the expiring torches into the three compart- 
ments of the arch Avhich served as their 
cages ; then, by means of a Avheel turned by 
the servants of the amphitheatre, the grat- 
ings rose from their subteri'anean grooves, 
the arches were closed, and the movable 
plank Avas replaced over the tank of the 
crocodile. xVfter extinguishing all the 
torches, the keepers hastily quitted the 
arena, saying to each other in a Ioav voice, 
full of terror, “ It is the hour for the ma- 
gicians.’^ 

The profoundest silence reigned in the 
darkness of the amphitheatre. Saved from 
death by a miraculous chance — for if the 
shrieks "of Diabolus and his expiring friends 
had not diverted all eyes from the arena, it 
Avould have been impossible for him, al- 
though half concealed by the elephant, to 
have reached the niche Avhere he crouched 
Avithout being seen — Sylvest, thus miracu- 
lously preserved, returned thanks to Ilesus. 
As if the gods Avere this night especially gra- 
cious to him, ho remembered that his Avife 
Loyse, at their last intervioAv, had promised 
to Avait for him four nights from that time at 
the end of the canal in the park of Faustina. 
He also remembered Faustina’s last AA'ords 
to Mount Libanus, as she carried off the 
fainting Siomara in her arms, “ Mount 
Libanus, I will await you at the temple of 
the canal. 

A sinister presentiment told the slaA^e 
that the patrician, having Siomara alive, 
perhaps, in her poAver, Avould make her suf- 
fer all the tortures that a depraved, jealous, 
and ferocious Avoman could invent for a 
hated rival. Doubtless, the temple of the 
canal was the place of these tortures. Syl- 
vest resolved to hasten to the park of the 
Villa Faustina. With a listening car he at 
last emerged from his hiding-place. Sud- 
denly, ho felt himself a prey to strange ter- 
rors. As ho crossed the arena, he heard the 
flight of great birds of night, SAvooping 
silently to the ground ; tAvico or thrice ho 
shudderingly felt the wind from their Avings 
on his l)row ; ho Avas also scA'eral times jostled 
and almost thrown down by hairy bodies 
that passed SAviftly by him. They Avere, 
doubtless, the magicians, Avho had come, in 
the form of strange animals, to seek bloody 
remains for their sorceries. Ferchanco 
Siomara had escaped through magic from 
the power of Faustina, and was among 
these monsters. 

The slave, chancing to step on a SAVord 
dropped by one of the gladiators, picked it 
up. It Avas short and sharp; he armed 
himself Avith it, and having at length reach- 
ed the northern entrance, made' his Avay 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


173 


through a long arched passage, and soon 
found himself outside the outer wall of the 
amphitheatre, situated in the suburbs of 
Orange. Half an hour would take him to 
the park of Faustina, lie walked rapidly, 
reached there in safety, scaled the park- 
wall, as usual, by means of a bough, and 
rauto the end of the canal, where he scarce- 
ly hoped to meet Loyse, so far was the night 
advanced. 

Thank he.aven ! the poor slave also has 
his moments of joy. Sylvest had hardly 
advanced a few paces on the terrace of the 
canal, when ho heard his wife’s voice saying, 
“ Sylvest, Sylvest, is it you 

The slave could not answer. He threw 
himself, sobbing, into his wife’s arms, and 
held her long to his breast, covering her 
with tears and kisses. 

“ You are weeping !” she said, with an- 
guish ■ “ some misfortune threatens you !” 

“ No, no, Loyse, the gods are gracious to 
us ; but we have not an instant to lose ■, day 
will soon break. Will you risk the chances 
of flight ? They are terrible, but we shall 
brave them together.” 

“ Sylvest, I have more than once proposed 
to you to fly, but you have refused.” 

“ Yes, but now I consent; jmu shall know 
why. Have you the strength to accompany 
me, my beloved wife ?” 

“ My love for you and for our child will 
give me this strength. But whither shall 
we fly ? In what direction ?” 

“By setting out instantly, wo can reach a 
deserted and barren valley before daybreak ; 
there we shall find a cavern, where I have 
already been at nocturnal meetings, and 
where we Avill at first remain concealed. We 
will take fruits and roots on our way from 
the gardens along the road. There is a tor- 
rent not far from the cave ; we shall have no 
fear, therefore, of wanting food and water 
for some days. Wo will then consider what 
to do; perhaps the gods will take pity on 
us.” 

At that moment, a prolonged shriek — a 
horrible and unearthly cry, Avhich was 
weakened by the distance — reached the ears 
of Sylvest and his wife, Loyse said, shud- 
dering, “ Oh ! those shrieks ! those shrieks 
again !” 

“ Have you heard them before ?” 

“ Several times since I have been waiting 
hero for you. At times, they would cease • 
then, after a considerable time, they would 
begin again more frightful than ever. Faust- 
ina is torturing some slave.” 

“ Faustina !” exclaimed Sylvest, stupefied, 
and thinking of Siomara, whom he had for- 
gotten in the joy of meeting Loyse. “ Do 
these shrieks come from the temple of’ the 
canal?” . ’ . 

“ Yes. Nevertheless, it was said this 
evening that our mistress was going to the 
amphitheatre; but, just as I left the arnphi- 


theatre, a freedraan from there rode at full 
gallop through the gardens toward the tem- 
ple, to inform Faustina, he said, of tho death 
of Mount Libanus.” 

“ There is no doubt ; it is Siomara,” cried 
Sylvest. “ They have carried her to that 
accursed temple. 0 woe, woo ! Come, 
come, Loyse !” 

“ W here are you going ?” said Sylvest’s 
companion, clinging to his arm, and seeing 
him rush olF like one distracted. “ Do you 
not hear those cries ? Faustina is there ! 
To approach the temple is to risk our de- 
struction.” 

But Sylvest no longer heard Loyse. The 
nearer ho came to the temple, tho more dis- 
tinct became tho shrieks of the victim — so 
distinct, indeed, that he recognized Sio- 
mara’s voice, stifled from time to time by 
songs and the sound of lyres, flutes, and 
cymbals. 

Tl^e terrified Loyse followed her husband, 
no longer attempting to detain him. Both 
soon reached the circular portico that sur- 
rounded the temple. A bright light escaped 
from the apertures in the entablature from 
wliieh Sjdvest, unseen, had witnessed the 
horrible mj^sterics of four nights before. 
Suddenly, a last shriek, even more frightful 
than tho others, and seeming like a death- 
cry, arose amidst tho silence of the night, 
followed by tho words — a last appeal, ut- 
tered in a voice still strong, but sinking and 
breathless with pain — “Sylvest! Mother! 
Father !” 

Tho slave, taking his sword between his 
teeth, sprang forward to climb one of the 
columns of tho portico, as he had done be- 
fore. What he would have said or done 
had he reached the apertures in the entab- 
lature, he knows not, for at that moment one 
frenzied idea alone possessed him — to go to 
the aid of Siomara, and to avenge her by 
the death of Faustina. But Loyse, more 
and more terrified by her husband’s agita- 
tion, clung to his arm witii all her might, 
and prevented him from mounting tho col- 
umn, exclaiming, “ You are destroying us ! 
Think of our child !” 

Sylvest strove to extricate himself from 
his wife’s grasp, and, deaf to her prayer, 
was about to pursue his mad project, 
when, after a moment of deathly silence, 
ho heard tho shrill voice of Faustina ex- 
claim : 

“ Dead ! Dead already ! Thou thyself 
predicted, beautiful magician, that my rival 
Siomara would fall into my power and ex- 
pire under iny hand in diabolical tortures 
Tliy prediction is accomplished : here thou 
art, ( lead — dead already ! Yes, dead, like 
Mount Libanus. By Hercules ! ’ added the 
monster, with a fiendish burst of laughter, 
“ Mount Libanus is dead — long live Bibrix ! 
Evoho ! evohe ! hither, all of you ! Evoho 1 
come ! Wine, songs, and flowers ! My ri- 


174 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


val is dead ! Wine, songs, and intoxica- 
tion 

The instruments of music sounded, and 
frenzied songs and cries kept time with 
that infernal dance, the sight of which had 
well-nigh driven Sylvest mad with horror. 

Siomara was dead. Nothing remained 
for the slave but to flee with Lojse. Breath- 
less and bewildered as he was, it was with 
difficulty that he found his way through the 
darkness to the park-wall, over which he 
helped his wile by means of the hough, and 
both took their way in haste toward the 
desert valley. 

I, Fergan, who write this, am the son of 
Pearon, who was the son of Sylvest, whose 
father was Guilhern, the son of Joel, the 
brenn of the tribe of Karnak, the last free 
Gaul of our family. Sylvest, my grand- 
father, died at the age of ninety-six. I was 
then in my fifteenth year ; my birth had 
cost my mother her life. Shortly after her 
death, Pearon, my father, was crushed by 
the wheel of a mill that he was turning. 

Of several stories of his life that my 
grandfather, Sylvest, intended for me, two 
were lost. The only one that he bequeathed 
to me, with the other parchments of our 
family, was the preceding narrative of the 
events that occurred to him when he was a 
slave of Lord Diabolus in the town of 
Orange ; having miraculously escaped the 
death that awaited him in the amphi- 
theatre, he repaired to the garden of the 
patrician Faustina, where ho found my 
grandmother Loyse, and fled with her, after 
the last agonizing cries of Siomara, who 
was tortured to death by the great Roman 
lady. 

I remember (and these memories are al- 
ready indistinct) having been told in my 
childhood by my grandfather that, after 
his flight, he remained long in concealment 
with his wife Loyse, at first in the cavern of 
the Children of the Mistletoe, and after- 
ward in a still more profound solitude, liv- 
ing on the fruits and roots which my grand- 
father gathered at night, and often a long 
way off in the cultivated fields. 

The season was fine and delicious ; and 
the two poor slaves, in the depths of their 
retreat, enjoyed with rapture the only days 
of freedom that they had ever known. 
Summer passed, however, and autumn like- 
wise; the cold winter was approaching, 
when no more fruits and vegetables could 
he found, and lastly, my mother, whose 
clothes were in rags and whoso health 
failed more and more, was on the point of 
bringing mo into tho world. My grand- 
father resigned himself anew to slavery, 
rather than see his wife die of want and 
hunger, a death which would have been 
shared by her unborn child. 

The fugitive slaves who were arrested 


far from their master^s dwelling, or who re- 
fused to toll to whom they belonged, wlmn, 
like my grandfather and his wife, the}^ had 
succeeded in ridding themselves of the col- 
lar on which the name of their owner was 
inscribed, belonged to the Roman public 
treasury, and were either sold for its bene- 
fit or employed as slaves on the public 
works. 

My grandfather and his wife, after sev- 
eral days’ journey among the mountains, 
reached the suburbs of Marseilles, almost 
dead with fatigue and hunger, and, inquiring 
for the treasury agent, confessed that they 
had fled from their master, and surrendered 
at discretion. By tho blessing of the gods, 
the agent was a humane man ; he took pity 
on them, and promised that instead of being 
sold, they should remain slaves of the state 
and bo employed, my grandfather on the 
public works that were being constructed 
at Marseilles, and my grandmother in his 
own house, to look after his children; the 
Roman, however, could not save my grand- 
father and his wife from the shame and pain 
of being branded in the forehead as fugi- 
tives. 

During long years, the fate of my grand- 
father was endurable, though he was sub- 
jected to arduous toil. He was at first em- 
ployed in tho construction of an aqueduct, 
for which ho was obliged to carry the 
stones, either on his back or harnessed to a 
cart. Ho returned at night half dead with 
fatigue ; but, at least, instead of sleeping in 
the ergastulum, with his companions in 
slavery, he was allowed to be with his wife 
and child, a favor which ho obtained by his 
gentleness and zeal from tho wife of the 
treasury agent. 

Years passed in this manner. My grand- 
father having become old and worn out by 
labor, was no longer able to carry heavy 
burdens, and was intrusted by the Roman 
with the care of his garden. My grand 
mother died shortly before my father was 
of an ago to marry — as slaves marry — and 
my mother died in bringing me into the 
world. I was eight years old when my 
father, who had remained a government 
slave and was employed in agriculture, was 
crushed by the wheel of an oil-mill that ho 
was turning. The agent’s son had succeeded 
to tho post of his father ; by tho recom- 
mendation of tho latter, ho retained my 
grandfather with him as gardener, he being 
able, though very old, to perform the duties. 

After my mother’s death, a Gallic slave 
belonging to the same family had nursed 
me, together with her daughter Genevieve, 
my foster-sister and companion in slavery. 
At the ago of ten, we were both employed 
in tho lighter duties of tho household; ,a 
few years after, however, our master, who, 
like his father, had the charge of the gov- 
ernment slaves, made me learn the weav- 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


175 


er’s trade, in order to make me profitable 
by hiring me out. My sister, Genevieve, 
learned to be a laundress. 

I was fifteen when my grandfather, feel- 
ing himself weaker every day, had a pre- 
sentiment that his end was approaching. 
He lived in a cabin in my master’s garden, 
where I was permitted to go and see him 
now and then, when my day’s work was 
done. One evening I found him in bed in 
his cabin. He bid me close the door secure- 
ly ; then, rising with a great effort, he 
mounted a stool and took from a hiding- 
place contrived between two rafters of the 
roof a broad belt of thick linen ; from this 
sort of sheath, he drew several long strips 
of tanned skin, such as are used to write 
upon in our country. These strips, about 
twice as wide as the palm of the hand, 
were sewed together at the ends, and wete 
covered with our fine, close Gallic charac- 
ters. To these rolls were attached a small 
golden sickle, a brass bell, of about the size 
of the thumb, and a piece of the iron collar 
which my grandfather had worn at the time 
of his escape from the amphitheatre of 
Orange, and which he had succeeded in fil- 
ing off, with the aid of his wife, Loyse, by 
means of wet sand and a dagger that he 
had carried away in his flight. On this 
fragment of the collar were still engraved 
the words in the Latin language, Servua 
Sum. 

“ My child,” said my grandfather, “ I 
feel my life ebbing away, but before dying 
I wish to accomplish a sacred duty. 
Although still very young, you are old 
enough to understand the value of a pro- 
mise. Promise me, therefore, when you 
have read these narratives relating to our 
family, to accomplish the last wish of our 
ancestor, Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Kar- 
nak, which Avish you will find written in 
these parchments. Promise me, also, my 
child, carefully to preserve the relics of our 
family — this little golden sickle, this brass 
bell, and this fragment of the collar which 
I Avoro during the most, cruel days of my 
slavery. Hitherto, ray poor child, you at 
least have known nothing of slaA'cry but the 
painful toil and the shame, and even of the 
shame I am not sure. Your character is re- 
signed, timid and shrinking; I find in you 
none 0 1 that Gallic fury of Avhich the Romans 
talk, Avhen speaking about our race. This 
comes, perhaps, from the fact that you 
are frail and puny. Ah ! my child, races 
degenerate in slavery, both in strength 
of mind and in that of body. My grand- 
father Joel and my father Guilhern were 
more than six Roman feet in height; feAV 
men could have overcome them in wrestling ; 
my stature did not equal theirs, but before I 
Avas boAved down by toil and years, I was 
tall and robust. Your poor father, my child, 
a victim as it were in his mother’s womb to 


the sufferings of our wandering and fugitive 
life, had already degenerated from the an- 
cient vigor of our race, and you are even 
smaller and weaker than your father. The 
sedentary habits of a weaver’s life and the 
insufiicient nourishment given slaves are 
increasing your bodily debility. May your 
character not grow feeble, and may you re- 
gain the energy of your race should the 
hour of justice and deliverance come — if 
it ever comes, alas ! — during your life ! You 
will learn, at least, from these writings the 
sufferings that your ancestors have endured ; 
this consciousness and knowledge, perch ance, 
may kindle in you the ardor of the old 
Gallic blood, and give you courage and 
strength to break the odious yoke worn 
by you, of a race once free, and to avenge 
yourself and your fathers on the Romans, 
our eternal oppressors. I had joined to 
this story, which you will read, that of my 
escape with my wife Loyse, of which I have 
sometimes spoken to you, and had depicted 
the sweet joys of the only days of freedom 
that I have endured during my long life of 
slavery ; I had also given an account of my 
meeting with one of our courageous and 
venerated Druids, a slave like mo and my 
companions, at the time when we were em- 
ployed on the aqueduct at Marseilles ; but 
these two narratives have been lost. The 
most important of the three remains — the 
one that I give you. Swear to me, ray 
child, religiously to preserv^e this trust; if 
you think yourself unable to conceal it any- 
where in safety, wear it about you under 
our clothing, by means of this belt, as I 
ave often done. Farewell, my child; be 
faithful to your gods; have but one hop" and 
aim, the deliverance of our beloved Gaul; 
and but one remembrance, the ills that your 
race has suffered !” 

I made my grandfather the promise that 
he asked ; then, according to his advice, I 
fastened the belt around my waist, under 
my clothing, and quitted him after a last 
embrace. I was never more to behold him : 
the next day ho expired. 

Genevieve, my foster-sister, who became 
my Avife a few years after, had been hired 
as a laundress by the Avifo of a Roman of 
Marseilles, called Lord Gremion, a relative 
of the first master of my grandfather, and 
also a treasury agent. 

The dominion of the Romans extended 
at that time from one end of the world to 
the other. Judea was subject to them, as 
a dependency of the province of Syria, gov- 
erned by a Roman prefect. Several vessels 
belonging to Marseilles sailed from this 
port to th^o conntry of the Israelites. Gre- 
mion, who was a kinsman of tho Roman 
procurator in Judea, by tho name of Pontius 
Pilate, was appointed to replace tho tribune 
of tho treasury Avho collected tho taxes in that 
country ; for Avherever the Roman dominion 


176 


THE MYSTERIES OF THE PEOPLE. 


was established, the exaction of taxes was 
established at the same time. 

Aurelia, Grcmion’s wife, who had hired 
my wife Genevieve as a laundress, was so 
much pleased with her zeal and gentleness 
that she wished to have her company dur- 
ing this long journey to the country of the 
Israelites, and begged her husband to pu^ 
chase her, which ho did. 

The gods were propitious to us. Aurelia 
was one of the few Roman ladies that 
showed themselves compassionate toward 
their slaves. Young, beautiful, and of a 
sprightly and cheerful character, she was 
not likely to render slavery over-painful to my 
wife, and this thought rendered our sepa- 
ration loss bitter to me. I hadbecome skilled 
as a weaver, and brought in a large profit 
to my master, who hired mo out. 

IMy life was like that of all slaves who 
were mechanics — neither bettor nor worse ; 
and, moreover, I confess that my grand- 
father had judged me rightly. I had not 
inherited — far from it — the fury and ultra 
valor of our old Gallic race, and its savage 
impatience of slavery. Servitude weighed 
heavily upon me, as it does on all ; but 
(may my ancestors and, should I have a 
son, my posterity forgive me !) I should 
never have dared to think of breaking my 
chains by violence or of escaping bondage 
by flight. My character has remained as 
feeble as my body • and when I sometimes 
read the terrible battles of my race and the 
frightful perils which my grjmdfather Syl- 
vest escaped, the perspiration trickles from 
my brow, and I vow never to expose my- 
self — ^voluntarily at least — to such danger, 
but to do my best to ply my shuttle so as 
to satisfy my masters. Ry this resignation 
I have gained the advantage of being a 
little less ill-treated than my companions, 
though, like them, I have made acquaint- 
ance with the scourge and the rods, in spite 
of my docility and my wish to do well ; but 
masters have their caprices and their fits of 
auger, and to be restive under them is to 
run the risk of a worse fate. I, therefore, 
endure mine, contenting myself with rub- 
bing my shoulders Avhen they smart. In 
spite of the example of my grandfather 
and the solicitations of some of my com- 
panions, who give me credit for great 
energy, as being of the race of Joel, the 
brcuu of the tribe of Karnak, I have never 
consented to attend the secret meetings of 
the Children of tlie Mistletoe, which are 
still kept up in Gaul. The torture of cru- 
cifixion, Avhich is inflicted on rebellious 
slaves, inspires mo with too much dread, and 
I bhuddei\ frail as I am, at the mere 
thought of an armed revolt. 

Resides, these enterprises have always ap- 
peared to mo insane. As an instance ; 
About the bogimiing of the reign of Tibe- 
rius, Augustus’s successor, the secret socie- 


ties of the Children of the Mistletoe and 
other Gallic conspirators, after long wait- 
ing for an opportune moment to revolt, de- 
termined, according to the advice of the 
Druids, to attempt a general uprising. 

Sacrovir,* a Nivernese Gaul, was the soul 
of this insurrection, appearing at the secret 
councils, sending emissaries in concert with 
the Druids, and showing Italy itself impa- 
tiently enduring the yoke of Tiberius; he 
believed that then or never was the moment 
to regain the liberty of Gaul. A great con- 
spiracy was set on foot, of which Sacrovir 
was the chief, and which he directed with 
extreme circumspection. He desired that 
matters should not be hurried, but that the 
conspirators should wait till all the conspir- 
ing cities were ready to act. Unfortunately, 
the Gauls of Anjou and Touraine rose too 
^on, and their rebellion, not being support- 
kl, was immediately suppressed. The 
wealthy Gauls, siding with the Romans, 
joined them in chastising, as they said, the 
ingratitude of the rebels who had had the au- 
dacity to revolt against the august emperor 
Tiberius, the protector of the G aids. Sacrovir 
had always fought in the foremost rank, with- 
out a helmet, and with his breast uncovered. 
His followers, overpowered by numbers, dis- 
banded. Drawn into the flight of those 
whom he had roused to revolt, he took ref- 
uge in Autun and endeavored to stir up 
that city against the Romans. The magis- 
trates and people, fearing the vengeance of 
Tiberius, threatened to deliver up Sacrovir 
to the enemy. Upon this, he repaired with 
several of his friends to his country-house 
in the neighborhood of the city. They set 
fire to the lower part, then, ascending to 
the terrace that surmounted it, seated 
themselves at the table and emptied a last 
cup to the deliverance of Gaul, of which 
they did not despair. When the flames 
reached the terrace where Sacrovir and his 
friends were drinking, they all stabbed them- 
selves and were swallowed up in the flames, 
ofiering their blood, like our ancestors, as a 
holocaust to Ilesus. 

A Gaul, I deplore the death of these val- 
iant men; but I say to myself, despond- 
ently, (may my ancestors again pardon mo 
for it!) there is no more hope for the lib- 
erty of our country, seeing that so many 
hcioes have sacrificed their generous blood 
in vain, since the days of the Chief of the 
Hundred Valleys, the guest of Joel. 

My wife Genevieve is a warrior in com- 
parison with me, and is worthy, by her 
ourago and virtue, to belong to our family, 
which numbers among its ancestresses Hen a, 
the virgin of the Isle of Sena ; Moroe, the 
wife of Albinik the sailor ; and Jilargarid, 
the Gallic matron. I have read the parch- 


* See Tacitus’ Annats; TMerry's Histortjnf the Gauls, 
vol. iii. ; Martin’s History of France, vol. i. 


THE IRON COLLAR. 


177 


merits left mo by ray grandfather, to Gene- 
vieve, ■whom 'they filled with enthusiasm. 
How often she has tenderly reproached me 
for my lukewarmness and despondency, ex- 
claiming, “ Ah ! if I were a man — if I were 
descended from the brenn of the tribe of 
Kavnak, that race fruitful in valiant men 
and women — at the first uprising of the 
Gauls, I should ofier up my blood.’’ 

“ I w'ould rather live tranquilly by your 
side, Genevieve,” I replied, “ patiently sub- 
mitting to the evils which I cannot help, 
and plying my shuttle as well as I can for 
my master’s benefit.” 

It -was, therefore, in the fifteenth year of 
the reign of Tiberius, tliat my wife set out 
from Marseilles, with her mistress Aurelia, 
on her way to Judea. 


[ The story to which a small silver cross is 
I attached, was written by Genevieve a year 
I after her return from her journey. My life ’ 
j has hitherto been so monotonous and insig- 
I nificant, that it would make a sorry figure 
I among our family narratives. That of 
Genevieve, although it relates some adven- 
^res, of no great importance, which oc- 
curred in the country of the Hebrews at the 
time that she dwelt in Jerusalem, will at 
least have the charm of curiosity inspired 
by all events that take place in a remote 
country of which very little is known. I 
shall therefore bequeath it to my posterity, 
should I leave any, together with the manu- 
scripts that tell the story of the Golden 
Sickle, the Brass Bell, and the Iron 
Collar. 



FINIS. 




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